Transi de Froid
by Incitata
Summary: Now complete. None fluffy, high octane twisty tale of unlikely beginnings and extraordinary results. If you don't read it, how will you know what you're missing?
1. The Smyler

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.

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Transi de Froid

By **Incitata**

Part One: The Smyler ...

"The smyler with the knyf under the cloke"

Chaucer, Geoffrey (c. 1342 - 1400)

The Canterbury Tales, `The Knight's Tale', 1390

~0~

After the flurry of catch up clichés were out of the way; "How was your summer?" "Nice to see you again!" "God, you've grown!" "Spain? How very interesting!" and all the other things that returning students say to fill the first few days back at school had died away the atmosphere in the Gryffindor Common room became one of relaxed torpor. It would last only until the realisation that they were at school for a reason hit the students then activity would resume again.

"Where's Harry?" asked Hermione. She plonked herself down next to Ron and began to flick through the pages of a small book without really looking at the words. "He wanted me to look over his Astronomy homework."

"Cho," said Ron, "They're spending every spare minute together. It's nice not to have to look at Harry's ugly mug all the time," Hermione couldn't help thinking that Ron sounded a little resentful, term had only just begun and Harry's absence seemed to be bothering Ron, not that he'd ever admit it. Certainly Ron had been spending a lot more time in Hermione's company; it was quite unusual to see him so keen on hanging around in the library. Hermione quite liked it. Ron's face brightened, "You can look at mine if you like!"

"Pass it over." Hermione sighed, pleased to have something to do. She closed her book with a snap and dropped it flat on the floor. Meanwhile, Ron felt down the side of the cushion and pulled out a scroll that looked as though someone had sat on it; he handed it to Hermione. 

"Big on presentation, aren't you," Hermione remarked as she unrolled his work. Hermione grimaced. "Are you sure you didn't just dip a spider in your inkwell and set it loose on here?" she asked turning the page upside down to see if it made any more sense that way up. Ron looked hurt. 

"I don't know where they find the time," said Hermione, thoughtfully.

"Who?" asked Ron sticking out his lower lip in what Hermione assumed was an attempt to look a bit more fake sulky.

"Cho and Harry! When do they get time to work?"

"I reckon they've got more interesting things to do, Hermione." Hermione shook her head and made a choking sound.

Ron bit the head off a chocolate frog and hung one leg over the arm of his chair; he waved his foot backwards and forward, "You're just cheesed off about Vicki!" Ron said laughing.

"I am not!" Hermione protested a little too quickly, before admitting "Maybe a bit. It was different when he was here at Hogwarts, but all last year was just, well, weird … too much like hard work."

"Thought you liked hard work."

Hermione stuck out her tongue and clouted Ron with an overstuffed cushion. 

"You still got enough O.W.L.'s to start a post office, should've heard my mum!" Ron held up his arm and began to open and close his hand as though he had lost his sock puppet; his voice was shrill and high pitched. "Why can't you be like that nice Hermione, at least Ginny has someone to set her the right example, bler, bler, bler, bler, bler!"

"She did not!" Hermione squealed.

"She did! She ran out of sensible older brothers to use against me. Reckon she thought you'd be a good substitute."

"Thanks Ron, I'm sure I'd make someone a great brother," Hermione shook her head and began to skim through Ron's work. Eventually she looked up and noticed Ron in his seat by the fireplace looking at her curiously. "You need to get out more, Ron," said Hermione peeping over the top of the parchment. "Go get yourself a girlfriend!"

"Hmm." Replied Ron as Hermione sank back beneath the page.

~0~

Quidditch trials were held during the second week of term down at the pitch on a warm, sunny Wednesday afternoon. A crowd of hopefuls gathered hoping to impress their house captains. As usual one or two of the more cocky first years turned up with borrowed brooms and as usual they failed to make the team. 

Hermione wasn't interested in playing Quidditch but she was interested in seeing who the new members of the team would be. The team that had won the cup in the third and fifth years was no more. The Weasley twins had left the team without Beaters and the Chasers, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson had gone the same year. Much to his delight Ron had been made Keeper at the start of his fifth year and to no-ones' great surprise Harry followed Oliver Wood as Captain. Hermione sat on the grass by the edge of the pitch resting against the empty crate that held the set of balls which were currently being chased, thrown and beaten and caught by an assortment of Gryffindors who approached the challenge with varying degrees of ineptitude.

"You sure you don't want to try?" asked Ron. He sat down on the crate and sucked in air through his teeth as a trio of would be Chasers dropped another Quaffle. "You can't be any worse than this bunch."

"Yeah Ron," said Hermione, sarcastically without looking up, "just pass me a broom. "To Hermione's horror that is exactly what Ron did. "No way!"

"Can't back out now, these are Quidditch trials, Hermione. If you're not trying out you shouldn't be here. School rules."

Hermione put down her book and snatched the broom from Ron's hand. She couldn't really argue with that.

"Alright then, where's the snitch." She said with mock aggression.

"Nah, I think you're more of a beater," Ron laughed waving a heavy bat at Hermione. "Catch!" he threw the bat, which landed on the grass at Hermione's feet. "Give the Bludger a whack then you can claim you tried out and you won't have to give yourself detention for being here."

"Ha ha, Ron," Hermione stooped and picked up the bat. She swung it in a wide arc, "Come over here a sec, Ron." She waved the bat threateningly in his direction.

"Stop time wasting and get on your broom," Ron said, laughing. Hermione cringed. Flying a broomstick with two hands was bad enough, trust Ron to make her try out in the most awkward way possible. Tucking the iron bound bat beneath her arm, Hermione mounted the broom and hovered a little way above the ground. When she was certain that she wasn't about to fall she tightened her knees and edged one hand off the shaft; finally she took the bat in her right hand.

"I've got us a new Beater here, Harry!" called Ron to Harry who stood a little way off talking quietly to a disappointed looking second year. Harry glanced up and grinned. Hermione went scarlet. She felt rather stupid perched awkwardly on the broom as she used the hand that held the bat to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes. 

Hermione didn't notice Ron reach into the crate and release a Bludger; she was too busy watching the Ravenclaws who seemed to be having just as much trouble finding a team that knew which end of the pitch was which. Something large and dark whizzed past Hermione's head. She swerved clumsily only narrowly avoided knocking Ron off his feet.

A loud snort caught Hermione's attention. "Oh my God, you people must be desperate!" Draco Malfoy stood nearby sporting a wide grin he was looking directly at Hermione. Beside him stood Adrian Pucey the Captain of the Slytherin team.

"Just imagine it's his head, Hermione!" called Ron who seemed to be waiting for something then suddenly he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "INCOMING!"

Hermione didn't need to think about it, she heard again the fast thhhrum then she swung the bat. THWUNK! The Bludger headed straight for Malfoy and Pucey. The Slytherins ducked then began to roar with laughter as Hermione overbalanced and toppled off the broom onto the grass. Hermione saw a pair of feet near her nose then Ron helped her get to her feet.

"Ignore them," Ron advised as Malfoy and Pucey continued to laugh. "Good aim though. I'd better go and catch that Bludger."

Hermione smiled weakly as she brushed grass from her school robes and watched Ron leap on to her abandoned broom and chase after the Bludger which had decided to give the Hufflepuffs some trouble. It was then that Hermione realised that Malfoy was still there. 

"That just about made my day," he said, "It could only have been better if..."

"You alright, Hermione?" said Harry. He must have hurried over when he saw Malfoy. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," Hermione replied. Hermione didn't like the way that Malfoy was eyeing her. It reminded her of the way she'd once caught Ron staring when he thought she wasn't looking; she liked being laughed at even less. Hermione glanced at Harry and winked. "Malfoy was just explaining that it might be possible to buy my way on to the team. Any chance, Harry?"

"'Fraid not," said Harry following Hermione's example. He reached out and took the bat from between Hermione's fingers. "Better luck next year, Hermione."

Malfoy raised one eyebrow. "Pity," he said, coldly, "I was looking forward to knocking her off her broom, not that she needs much help. Good luck, Potter," from anyone else it would have been a sporting thing to say, but anyone else would not have added, "You're going to need it!" 

~0~

Hermione quickly forgot about that incident but a few days later she heard something that brought it flooding back.

"I can hardly believe it. Draco's finally flipped. Seriously Padma he just won't shut up about her!"

"No, I don't believe it! All that Mudblood stuff fake? No way, it's just so much part of him."

"He's not exactly happy about it, very traditional family. They'd prefer him to be gay than to hook up with someone like her."

The voices came from behind a bookcase.

Hermione was in the library at her usual desk near the window where the light was good for most of the day. She sat hunched over a book anxiously scribbling notes. Hermione paused and lifted her quill from the parchment.

Blaise Zabini and Padma Patil gossiping instead of working. Typical, Don't they care that it's only two days until the History test? Hermione was about to lay down her quill and tell them to shut up when she decided that waiting a few minutes couldn't do any harm. No one ever bothered to tell her gossip, not good old sensible Hermione, dependable Prefect and most likely Head Girl next year. Hermione had to pick these things up in passing or worse, wait until Harry or Ron told her! Somehow they always seemed to know what was going on round the school. Hermione could quote verbatim whole passages from 'Hogwarts. A History' and countless other dusty tomes but ask her a simple question about here and now and she was stumped.

"I'm telling you Pad it's all a front." Blaise continued. "Goyle told me and he would know, they share a dorm."

"But _Hermione_!" The Ravenclaw exclaimed. "He's so cute and she's so plain!"

Hermione's mouth fell open at the mention of her name. There was only one Hermione in Hogwarts and she was sitting right there in the library currently leaning closer and closer to the bookcase, straining her ears to hear better.

Of course, I shouldn't listen, thought Hermione, Eavesdropping is wrong. No one ever heard anything good about themselves this way... Well maybe just a little longer...

"Plain am I? Miss C grades!" She muttered angrily. "Oh, drat!"

Hermione saw that the tip of her quill was touching the page and a large ink blot had oozed out over her notes, she groaned, inwardly cursing herself for allowing them to distract her. Now she'd have to write the entire page again.

~0~

Summer had seemed determined to stay but eventually the warm days of autumn began to grow fewer and the yellowed leaves that had clung to the trees for so long began to fall. One particularly bright but chilly Thursday morning something very unusual happened to Hermione as she made her to Herbology. 

Having sat up until three in the morning reading a most absorbing book about sponges, Hermione overslept. Hermione simply didn't do things like that. She grabbed her bag, which caught on the door handle as she dashed out of the dormitory. She thought heard a sound like stitches popping but Hermione didn't have time to worry about that. Hermione ran using every short cut she knew to get her down to the greenhouses quicker. She skidded to slow herself down then turned down the marble staircase. In her haste Hermione cannoned straight into another student who was making his way up the stairs.

There had been no time to stop; she hadn't even seen him. The first she knew about it was an impact rather like the one she had felt when she hit the Bludger at Malfoy and then they were falling down step after step to land in a tangled mess at the bottom. Already weakened Hermione's bag had split and books and parchment lay strewn everywhere. Hermione lay winded but strangely pleased that she had put an unbreakable charm on her inkpot.

A cold sardonic drawl met her ears. "You really should pay more attention to where you're going," it said. Why you of all people? Hermione thought as she turned her head to see Draco Malfoy who lay rather oddly across her arm with one of his legs still pointing up the stairs. There was dust all down one side of his black school robes. "You'll injure someone one of these days."

Hermione was astonished; she thought that of all people Malfoy would be one to scream and shout at anyone clumsy enough to bump into him let alone knock him down the stairs. Hermione struggled to pull her arm out from beneath him; he was rather heavy and he didn't seem about to help by doing anything useful like moving.

"I'm sorry," Hermione muttered, it was after all her fault. Aware that every minute made her later and later she got to her feet and began to pick up her things. Wand, book, another book, torn bag, book. She'd bumped her head as she fell and her arm hurt as she piled everything together, then she remembered Malfoy. Hermione supposed she ought to help him up or something. "Are you okay?" she asked turning back to where Malfoy was lying only he wasn't lying any more; he was standing and holding a broken quill held together by two thin strands of whatever feather shafts are made of in one hand. His other hand rubbed his hip. 

"Ouch!" said Malfoy, with the merest hint of a smile, "You've given me the perfect excuse for skipping Transfiguration," his eyes seemed to be drawn to Hermione's broken quill. 

"If you could give that back," said Hermione, sharply not liking the way he was so blasé about missing lessons, "I'm late for Herbology." She couldn't take the quill because the former contents of her bag were now in her arms, her inkpot and wand balanced on the top. 

Malfoy's expression was thoughtful. Hermione watched as he twirled the broken feather between his fingers. "It's not going to be much use to you," he remarked as the two pieces split apart. He took one in each hand then placed them both on top of Hermione's pile of books.

Hermione didn't know what to say. What did he think he was doing, damaging her stuff? Malfoy appeared to be looking for something; he searched quickly through his robes then smiled. Malfoy brushed the pieces of Hermione's quill to the floor then he drew a something from within his robes; a long feather quill which he placed between her inkpot and her wand.

Puzzled, Hermione looked down. A silver nib was attached to one end of an ornate barrel while the other end secured a feather. The feather was curved, broad and coloured like dark amber. Her eyes flicked up to meet Malfoy's who was regarding her with a kind of amusement.

"I don't need it, I'm not going to class," he smiled inscrutably and Hermione wondered what was going on behind those eyes. Before she could say anything he'd gone down the narrow staircase to the dungeons.

Hermione simply stared at the space where he had been. 

Ron was never going to believe it!

~0~

After the tragic events two years ago when Cedric Diggory had lost his life in the Tri-wizard tournament, Professor Dumbledore had worked at promoting a feeling of unity throughout the school. Knowing how much everyone had enjoyed the Yule Ball associated with that event, the Headmaster had arranged a less formal celebration for all the students just before the end of term. Last year's had been a tremendous success and this year's promised to be even more spectacular. Notices appeared around the school on Friday evening announcing the date and from then on it seemed to be the only topic on people's lips. Well, not quite the only topic.

Hermione had heard more and more about Malfoy's alleged change of heart toward Muggle borns but apart from that one incident on the stairs his attitude hadn't changed. If anything he was worse. It seemed to Hermione that he never missed an opportunity to cast a slur in her direction but Hermione did wonder ... "All a front" ... Blaise's words kept coming back to her. 

Ridiculous, Hermione told herself. Absolutely ridiculous.

"Who you going to the dance with?" asked Lavender bouncing up behind Hermione as she walked to the great hall on Sunday morning.

"Oh, I dunno. Haven't really thought about it." The girls had shared a dormitory since they started at Hogwarts but they'd never become all that close. Still, that never deterred Lavender from asking inappropriate questions.

"They'll all be taken if you don't hurry." 

Surprise, surprise. Hermione thought. Lavender's head is already stuffed full of pink frilly dresses, make up and spotty youths.

Hermione's eyes lifted to the far side of the hall where Malfoy and company were just coming up to breakfast. Lavender's eyes followed the path of Hermione's gaze. She smiled.

"You could do worse." She gushed, an almost dreamlike expression settling on her face.

"Yeah, I could go with Peeves." Hermione tore her eyes away from the Slytherin boys and glared at Lavender. "What is it with you people? It's only a dance. We have one every year, big deal!"

"So-rry, just that some of us like to think about things other than work every now and then. And there's extra points if you go with someone from another house; School unity and all that hogwash." Lavender's tone became low and conspiratorial. "I'll let you into a secret 'Mione. He fancies you."

"Who fancies me?" Hermione really didn't want to be having this conversation, she had a six foot essay to finish for Professor McGonagall on the correct procedure for transfiguring a Moose into a Hatstand and only two weeks to write it in; she didn't have time to worry about the dance.

"Draco Malfoy of course!" Exclaimed Lavender as if unable to believe that Hermione did not know. "Everyone's talking about it."

"I'm not." Replied Hermione sharply. Of course she'd heard the whispers. Heard and ignored them, just some malicious prank dreamt up by Malfoy's twisted immature little friends to make her look stupid. "Don't be an idiot Lavender. He hates me."

"I got it from Parvati, who got it from Padma, who got it from Blaise, who heard it from Goyle, who read his diary." Lavender stated as if that explained everything, "He's just embarrassed. I wouldn't be surprised if he asked you to go with him."

"Well, if he does don't be surprised if I turn him down." Hermione's lips thinned, narrow enough to rival McGonagall's at their most angry.

"Whatever." Lavender shook her head. There really was no helping some people.

~0~

The next Saturday, Gryffindor played Hufflepuff in the first match of the season. Hermione was seated at the front of the stands near the Gryffindor hoops; she could hear Dean and Seamus chatting nearby but she was happy enough watching the teams fly a circuit of the pitch before the match. Hermione was a little surprised to see Cho Chang, seventh year, Ravenclaw Seeker and Harry's girlfriend come over to her.

"Here to check out the opposition?" Hermione asked as Cho sat down.

"Did that a long time ago," Cho winked as Harry flew by, "Need to check out his form, Ravenclaw aren't playing Gryffindor for ages and ... ohh, he has got a nice technique hasn't he!" Cho said as Harry dived and swooped round the Hufflepuff Keeper.

"He's going to have such a hard job training that lot, it takes time to build a good team. I suppose Hufflepuff are a good warm up."

"Hmmm," agreed Hermione, she'd heard just about enough of Quidditch strategy to last her forever. Hermione's eyes were on Ron who knocked back Quaffle after Quaffle from the Gryffindor hoops. As play continued Hermione couldn't help but feel a little jealous of what they could do in the air but as always Hermione preferred to keep her feet planted firmly on the ground. The only method of flying Hermione was really comfortable with involved a pressurised steel tube weighing several tonnes complete with engines, wings and a pilot.

"Butterfingers!" yelled Hermione as the Quaffle slipped straight through Ron's hands and through the middle hoop; she couldn't imagine how he'd let that one past him. Ron replied with a rather rude gesture.

"Ow!" Cho exclaimed in sympathy as a Bludger thumped into Hannah Abbot's head, "Bet that hurt." 

All in all it was an uneventful game. Twenty minutes into the match when the score still stood at Gryffindor nil, Hufflepuff Ten Harry caught the Snitch. 

"That was hardly worth getting out of bed for," said Cho who smiled absently, her eyes followed Harry who weaved in and out of the goal posts before joining the rest of the team on the ground. "Think I'd better get down there!"

"See you!" Hermione thought that as the longest conversation she'd had with Cho since she started seeing Harry at the end of the fifth year. Cho seemed nice enough and Harry seemed happy, Hermione supposed that she gave him something to worry about other than Dark Lords and Dursleys.

As Hermione trotted down the stairs someone burst into high pitched laughter. Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin who was pretty despite the fact that she bore a remarkable resemblance to a rotweiller and Millicent Bulstrode her friend who could kindly be described as having a face like a bag of hammers, suffered another fit of the giggles as Hermione walked past them.

"Give it up, Granger, if you know what's good for you." said Pansy stepping away from the wall. Hermione had the odd feeling that they'd been waiting for her.

Hermione stopped and took a deep breath. "Dunno what you're talking about." she said calmly which was true.

"Draco Malfoy," said Pansy who folded her arms and sneered. "Keep away from him."

There was something odd about this, but Hermione couldn't tell what it was. "You his new bodyguard?"

"Yes, keep your hands off!"

"Gladly," said Hermione shaking her bewildered head in confusion.

"You'll never get him!" Snorted Millicent.

"Tell it to someone who cares." Hermione pushed past them. What did they know? Didn't he and Pansy have a thing once? Now that made sense, Oh my, a thought struck Hermione What if it is true? And Pansy's jealous. Hermione shrugged I'm sure he's big enough and ugly enough to cope with being turned down by a Muggle born.

More likely the whole lot of them were in on one big joke at her expense.

Hermione decided to forget all about it. 

~0~

There was just one week left until the end of term and five days until the dance. Hermione was still dateless and happy that way, at least on the surface; she thought that _someone_ might have asked her. On top of that, Pansy's taunts had mutated into what could only be described as thinly veiled threats. 

Potions, the first lesson of the week had not gone well. To be accurate the whole lesson had been a fiasco. Their assignment was to brew a Coiffe Mixture, which to paraphrase Professor Snape was;

"A complicated concoction that will banish bad hair days forever!" His black eyes flashed and fixed on Hermione's rather dry locks when he said those words. She and Ron exchanged a glance, as they and several other people, Slytherins included suppressed a laugh. By the state of his own hair Snape obviously wasn't any good at making it. 

Then came the blow. "You, Miss Granger can work with Mr Malfoy."

Hermione picked up her things and moved desks. Malfoy looked triumphant and from the corner of her eye Hermione saw that Pansy Parkinson looked ready to explode. Had Malfoy planned this? She knew that Snape liked him but would he rearrange a lesson just at Malfoy's request? Or had Snape been listening to rumours too? That sounded more like it.

Until recently Hermione's mind had confined Draco Malfoy in a sort of time warp; when she looked at him she saw only the snotty little boy she had first met on the train on the way to Hogwarts, the same one who had an irritating habit of sneering the word Mudblood every time she passed and the same one she had punched in the nose one year. Hermione could cope with that image quite easily. But since they'd got rather tangled up when she knocked him down the stairs she'd been forced to notice that he had changed, physically anyway. He was taller and broader, his muscles had hardened and his features become more defined. To her annoyance Hermione had to admit that he wasn't actually bad looking, if appearances counted for anything. 

And for some reason it made his insults a little more difficult to bear. 

Hermione glared at Malfoy as she dropped her things onto the desk and sat down.

"I see you're still using my quill," he remarked, casually as Hermione removed the stopper from her ink bottle and loaded the implement with ink. Hermione ignored him. She hadn't really thought about it but she did now as she flattened a piece of parchment and copied down a series of instructions from the blackboard. Every scratch of the nib reminded Hermione where it had come from.

The rest of the lesson went predictably well. Hermione Granger faced Draco Malfoy over the cauldron and within minutes the words started flying over the surface of the bubbling pink liquid;

"Don't add the Powdered Chameleon Scales yet," snapped Hermione, "it'll curdle."

"Oh yeah. I forgot you know everything!" Malfoy sat down, folded his arms and put his feet on the desk. Hermione looked round and saw Harry and Ron's horrified faces; she turned back to Malfoy who waved a dismissive hand at her, "Go on then, finish it."

"Stop being a prat and help,"

"If you stop telling me what to do," he said, slowly. Malfoy's looked at Hermione in the same way as when she'd fallen off her broomstick; it made her feel very uncomfortable.

"Alright, add the Chameleon Scales."

"That sounded like an instruction to me." But Malfoy was on his feet again. Snape had seemingly grown bored with Neville baiting and was once again prowling round the room. Even Malfoy wasn't going to risk being caught with his feet up in one of Snape's classes. Hermione watched critically as Malfoy tossed a handful of the iridescent powder into the cauldron, he took a ladle and stirred it once. Three blue bubbles broke through the surface.

"That's not supposed to happen!" Hermione said, trying hard not to lose her temper.

"Sorry, you need this potion so desperately don't you!" Malfoy reached out and twisted a strand of Hermione's hair between his fingers. 

"Shut up, Malfoy" she said slapping his hand away and tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Make me" he retorted.

"Don't tempt me!" Hermione said in a low voice, "Pass the Peruvian Puss Pods."

Malfoy reached out and pushed a jar full of glistening green lumps further along the desk and out of Hermione's reach. "Get them yourself."

To get the jar Hermione had to get past Malfoy but when she tried to slip round behind him he hooked his foot round the leg of a chair and pulled it into her path to block her way. Hermione wasn't about to play this game; she stretched over the desk and tried to edge the jar closer with her fingertips. She missed and the jar smashed to the floor sending slimy green Puss Pods skidding everywhere.

Snape, who seemed blind when it came to Malfoy's teasing, was suddenly very attentive. He turned and stepping carefully over broken glass and Puss Pods, stopped right in front of Hermione.

"Are you in any way related to Neville Longbottom, Miss Granger?" he asked loudly, Hermione kept her eyes on the desk. The room was almost silent. She thought that she could hear Ron muttering darkly to Harry.

"No sir," she replied trying to ignore Malfoy whose eyes, brimming with amusement were fixed on her.

"Then it will be safe for you to return here at lunch time to scrub out the cauldrons!" 

Hermione thought that her lunchtime couldn't get any worse. Her hands were raw from scrubbing sticky goo from ten cauldrons and there was only ten minutes for her to get to the hall and grab something for lunch. Hermione picked up her books and made sure that she slammed the classroom door as she left. 

Why did Malfoy have to show off in front of people, it was all his fault! She thought as she hurried along the narrow corridor, books clutched to her chest. Why was he so different when he was alone? It just didn't make sense. Hermione didn't have very long to dwell on the question. Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode were lurking round the corner. Neither of them looked at all pleased to see Hermione but she couldn't help feeling that that was precisely what they had wanted.

"Oops." Said Pansy knocking Hermione's arm and sending the pile of books she carried flying. 

"That was deliberate!" Hermione's eyes blazed.

"Prove it! I warned you about talking to Malfoy, Granger."

"I wasn't talking to him we were having an argument! And it was Snape who made us work together in the first place. Frankly I don't want anything to do with Malfoy. The ass couldn't make a Coiffe mixture if it came freeze dried and all he had to do was add water but unfortunately I have to work with him, so keep your nasty little opinions to yourself!"

Hermione gathered up her books and walked away feeling the malicious eyes of the two girls burning into her back.

Why is Pansy so keen on keeping me away from Malfoy? Surely she should have been sniggering as usual when I got punished and Malfoy got off scot free. Not for the first time Hermione wondered if there was there actually some truth in what she had been hearing? If that was true he had a very weird way of showing it.

Hours later Hermione walked slowly back to the Gryffindor Common Room pausing for a few moments to chat with the Fat Lady. When she had heard enough about the Fat Lady's friend, Violet, Hermione made her excuses and gave the password _Snodgrass_ and stepped through the portrait hole. She dumped her bag and books on the table in the corner and went off in search of Lavender. She found her in their dormitory lying on her front on the bed flicking idly through a copy of Witch Weekly. 

"You got a minute?" Asked Hermione.

"Sure, sit down." Lavender patted the mattress and sat up. The glossy magazine slid to the floor. "What's up? You can tell me. I'll not tell a soul."

"It's all these rumours." Hermione explained reluctantly. "I just can't help wondering if there's some truth in them. I always thought Malfoy was really shallow but what sort of person would I be if I'm wrong and won't give him a second chance? People can change!"

Hermione was usually happy to solve her problems by herself but for once she needed to talk and Lavender was there for her. She was quite close to Lavender and Parvati but never quite close enough to confide. Of course they had always tried to involve her in what they did but Hermione wasn't really a girly girl and she was always too absorbed with her work or what Harry and Ron were up to for the girls to become good friends. The problem was she couldn't really talk to Harry or Ron about this, they would never understand.

Finally Hermione confessed what was really bothering her. "Y'know, if he asks me I think I'll say yes!"

Lavender told no-one, well no-one except Parvati, and Parvati told Padma and Padma told Blaise and Blaise told ... 

~0~

The day of the Dance had arrived. Morning was lessons as usual but the entire school had the afternoon off. After lunch everyone disappeared back to their common rooms, leaving the classrooms and corridors silent. The library too was empty and silent apart the persistent scratch of a quill on parchment and Hermione's gentle breathing. Hermione put down her quill and rubbed her neck, it was stiff and she was tired. She looked up as the door opened. 

"What do you want Malfoy?" Hermione asked as he walked over. He moved so lithely, she noticed. Flowing, never an awkward movement. Just another annoying little nuance she had noticed up over the last few weeks.

"Oh, er. A book!" He answered shiftily.

"Well, take your pick and leave me alone." She was slightly annoyed that he hadn't asked her to the dance but had no intention of letting him know that, they'd never exactly been friendly so her less-than-pleased-to-see-him tone wouldn't seem odd. She'd been looking forward to turning him down or maybe even accepting just to annoy Ron who seemed to have forgotten that she existed.

"What? Has my hair turned green?" It irritated her, the way he stood stared at her.

"No, I..." He was about to say something more when the door opened again. This time Ron stepped in.

"Hermione, I thought ... what are you doing here Malfoy?" He asked with undisguised hostility.

The temperature in the room suddenly dropped several degrees.

"Getting a book Weasel. Not that it's any of your business." Malfoy glowered at him, glared at Hermione then without another word he turned and pushed past Ron slamming the door behind him.

He didn't take a book, mused Hermione. What did he want? Had he been going to...?

Ron's next question echoed her thoughts. "What did he want?"

"I don't know Ron he never got as far as asking. If you run you could catch up and ask him!"

"Asking?" Ron's eyes widened. 

Another one who listens to gossip, thought Hermione, but the thought seemed to do something to Ron. He straightened and smiled an awkward sheepish smile. 

"Actually, I er well I ...I had something to ask you."

"Yes Ron?" She watched as his freckled nose began to darken, colour spreading out across his cheeks right up to the tips of his ears. Pink to puce clashing violently with his hair. It was painful to watch. 

"I want, I mean will, I..."

"I'll go to the dance with you Ron." Smiled Hermione finished his question, after three years he had finally plucked up the courage to ask her to a dance, or at least almost ask her and it was the thought that Malfoy might get in first that had done it. "Thank you for asking me now if you don't mind I need to finish this essay. It's due on the first day next term."

Ron's cheeks flushed deeper, then he made his excuses leaving Hermione alone with her essay and her thoughts. 

~0~

That evening Ron waited in the Gryffindor common room. Harry and everyone else had already gone off with their partners. Time passed slowly, Seven O'clock, Seven Fifteen, Seven Thirty. If Ron had owned a watch he would have been glancing at it every two minutes. Where is she? Ron was actually beginning to wonder if Hermione had changed her mind and gone back to the library when the door opened and she stepped into the room. He grinned at the sight.

Hermione's hair was scraped back from her face and piled on the on top of her head in a nest of curls; wisps of hair meticulously placed to look careless framed her face. Her robes were cut low in clingy stuff to emphasise the fact that there was more to her than a brain. They were a soft golden colour that highlighted the orange flecks in her warm brown eyes. Ron was speechless.

"Come on then, Ron." she grinned, waving a finger at her hair, "Before this lot collapses!"

"Wow." He managed to say as she placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her through the portrait hole out into the corridors. They arrived at the Great Hall just late enough to make a grand entrance.

The walls of the great hall were decked with boughs of holly each bearing a face formed of prickly green leaves which smiled benevolently from among the glowing red berries and in each corner stood a great Christmas tree one for each of the four houses festooned with streamers in the house colours. 

The four house tables had been removed and the staff table was laden with trays of food and three great punch bowls shaped like cauldrons. At the other end of the hall a string quartet played straining to be heard above the hum of chat and laughter.

Hermione wondered who had charmed the two violins, viola and cello into playing, then she remembered that Dumbledore had a thing for Chamber Music. 

Who needs a CD player? She thought as she watched the bows dance across the strings.

They made their way slowly through the crowd and found Harry and Cho near the Ravenclaw tree with Neville and Seamus. They were talking about the games.

"I heard that old Dumbledore's arranged a Muggle funfair." Said Seamus. "And some wizard games too. "

"Really?" said Ron. "Cool."

~0~

He'd come so close and the Weasel had got in the way but it wasn't over yet, not by a long shot. Pansy smiled sickly sweet at Draco and sneered at Blaise Zabini who rested her hand lightly on his arm. The little knot of Slytherins watched as Ron and Hermione entered fashionably late. Pansy at least seemed pleased that Hermione wasn't with Draco, all her threats appeared to have paid off and now all she had to worry about was Blaise.

"Look at the pair of them." Muttered Draco to Blaise. "Makes you sick doesn't it?"

Blaise merely nodded and whispered something in Draco's ear.

"You think?" his face split into a wide grin. "Why not!"

It was a while before he could get away from his friends, but eventually he slipped away, only Blaise saw him go and immediately she broke away and followed him. Amazing really, he always endeavoured to be the centre of attention yet they didn't even notice he was gone. Weird but maybe it was the charm that Blaise had supplied that helped.

Malfoy skirted round the edge of the little groups that littered the great hall catching the odd word of conversation here and there. Eventually they met at the other side of the room next to the staff table just beside the middle cauldron.

"You really are incredible." Draco said smiling down at Blaise who leaned gently on the edge of the table looking out onto the room.

"I know." She replied, with no false modesty as she craned her neck to peer over his shoulder. 

"Oohh, she said. "By the pricking of my thumbs something wicked this way comes."

"What?" Draco looked confused.

"It's from a Muggle play, something a witch says."

"If you say so. I'm not that interested in Muggle studies."

"Really?" Blaise's voice was coy and her eyebrow raised slightly. "She's alone, Tomato Head is off talking with Potty."

"Tomato Head?"

"Weasel!"

"I understand. What do you see now?"

"Still coming this way, I don't think she's even spotted we're here."

"Good." Draco leaned forward and kissed Blaise lightly on the forehead. "I can't believe what a good sport you're being about this. You are meant to be my date after all."

Blaise chuckled. "It's a favour Draco, I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I'll call it in one day. Ready?"

Draco nodded. Seconds later Blaise slapped him hard across the face. 

Hermione stopped in her tracks watching the scene as heated words floated in her direction; 

" ...if that's how you feel why didn't you ask her!" Blaise's eyes were wet with tears. "I'll make it easy for you, go and find your precious Hermione!"

He lifted his hand to his cheek, that hurt. His surprise was genuine. He hadn't known Blaise was quite such a convincing actress. 

Blaise didn't give him time to speak. She turned on her heel and stormed down the length of the table and out of the hall. A shell-shocked Draco found himself staring straight into Hermione's wide brown eyes.

"I couldn't help overhearing." Said Hermione looking down at her feet, In fact resting her gaze anywhere but Malfoys own. "I'm sorry, I didn't know ... well I'm still sort of shocked to find that the rumours I'd heard were true."

"I don't know what rumours you've heard." He snapped adopting a defensive posture, arms folded across his chest.

"I was only trying to help." She replied feeling guilty for having doubted everything she'd heard over the past few weeks. He really had been going to ask her to the dance earlier in the library until Ron had interfered. Interfered? That was rather a strong word. But where was Ron now?

"Well don't bother. What happened to your date?"

"Hermione smiled. "Talking about Quidditch, I came for a refill." She waved her empty goblet in the air.

"Allow me." Said Draco unfolding his arms and taking it from between her fingers. He took the ladle from the side of the cauldron and spooned pumpkin juice into her goblet then handed it back to her before taking one for himself.

"Looks like we've both been stood up doesn't it! Cheers!" He raised his goblet.

She returned the salute. 

It's odd thought Hermione, When he isn't mouthing off or spitting insults Malfoy can actually be quite a gentleman. Perhaps there is more to him than his looks. She sipped her drink and glanced over to where Ron, Harry, Cho and Seamus were deep in Quidditch talk, they hadn't even noticed that she was gone.

"Can I ask you a question, Malfoy?"

"You just did."

"Oscar Wilde is alive!" Hermione scowled but the look lacked any real annoyance. "That joke wasn't even original a hundred years ago, sorry. About earlier in the library. What did you really want?"

"Nothing important. Listen, I don't really feel like this. If you'll excuse me I'm going to get some air." Malfoy placed his goblet on the table and began to turn away. Hermione looked over at her friends again, still laughing without her. 

Spirit of Christmas she thought, Goodwill to all men, even Draco Malfoy.

"Wait." She said catching up with Malfoy. "I'll come with you."

Draco's eyes narrowed as Hermione moved to put her goblet down. "Bring it with you" he said. 

She did. 

They followed the same path that Blaise had taken down the edge of the table and out of the hall into the corridor, the sound of voices grew quieter with each step. The main doors stood open and the courtyard and the edge of the forest was lit with thousands of tiny silver lights. Great torches warmed the air and people were just beginning to drift outside to enjoy the array of Muggle and Wizard fairground games that Dumbledore had arranged. 

'Catch the Snitch' an enormous arc of red and green letters advertised. 'Show those Seekers a thing or Two'. Beneath the words hovered several rather obedient Golden Snitches.

"Catch the Snitch and win a sneakoscope" said a man as they passed by, he held out a rather battered Cleansweep Seven. "Want to try young man?"

"I don't think so!" Hissed Malfoy through gritted teeth. "Idiot!"

"Lighten up." Said Hermione struggling to keep up with him, "It's meant to be fun."

"Dodgem Cars. Ten Pin Bowling. Bat the Rat." Draco's eyes raked over the Muggle games then settled on Hermione as if challenging her to make a case. "What's fun about that?"

She shook her head, there was something unsettling about his gaze. Two silvery grey eyes filled with humour but it was a joke that only he understood. She wasn't entirely sure that she wanted him to explain. 

"Let's just walk Draco." She sighed ... absently she wondered where Scabbers was. Now that would make Bat the Rat quite fun! The idea of hitting Pettigrew on the head with a stick made her smile. 

Did I just call him Draco? She asked herself in surprise as he led her away from the funfair. That's got to be a first.

~0~

Beyond the enchanted courtyard the night air was cold, it sharpened Draco's senses. Hermione seemed a little vague. Draco knew the reason for that, the tiny drop of liquid he had dropped in her goblet as he refilled it was beginning to take effect. He wasn't taking any chances.

The full moon was high and bright in the clear sky, there was no snow but the ground was hard and frosty.

"Shall we walk by the lake?" Draco said softly taking Hermione's hand in his. She did not protest and he led her off into the night. After a few minutes she stumbled. Draco caught her in his arms steadying her against his chest. "Have you been drinking Hermione?" he questioned slyly.

She placed her hands on his chest and drew back and smiling up at him. "You called me Hermione." 

"I thought that was your name."

"It is but I've never heard you use it."

He said nothing, his hands held her upper arms, keeping her on her feet. They stood in a clearing flooded with moonlight bordered on one side with brambles and by the lake on the other, it was empty except for a statue on a plinth who at the moment was curled up asleep beneath a white marble blanket. 

The moonlight caught Draco's hair making it glow like a halo. Hermione was very close to him transfixed by his gaze as she looked up into his eyes her empty goblet fell from her fingers to lie forgotten on the forest floor.

"I hate to be predictable." He whispered pulling her back towards him.

"I like it." She said, "It sort of proves that you care."

"I? Care?" She didn't even catch that it was a question. The little idiot took it to be a statement of fact, Mudblood Granger, Brain of Britain couldn't distinguish concern from scorn. Draco fought down a bitter laugh by biting his tongue. 

"Can I tell you something Hermione?"

"Of course you can Draco."

"I was going to ask you to the dance tonight."

"I thought it was just another joke, I didn't let myself believe it." Hermione explained.

"No joke Hermione." Draco lied.

"Good." Hermione pushed herself on to her tiptoes and kissed him inexpertly on the lips. 

I win. Draco reminded himself as he responded to her kiss parting her lips with his tongue, Anything else is just a bonus. 

One hand ran up her spine to the back of her head pushing her up against his mouth, his kiss was already rough and growing more urgent. The other trailed down over her waist across her hip and round to her buttock. He squeezed with strong fingers through the fabric of her gown to be rewarded with a little groan and the feeling of her leg wrapping around his.

He'd done enough. 

If he had cared for her he would have ended it there but he did not care they were alone under the moonlight. She had already given her mind away. He knew her thoughts. He knew how the last few weeks had effected her, how they had confused her. For a girl of intelligence she demonstrated very little common sense; how could he not take advantage of that?

Draco shifted suddenly throwing her off balance, she fell to the ground and he landed on top of her smiling. 

"Oops!" he said, straddling her before bending down to kiss her again.

~Fin~

In **_Part Two: Les Liaisons Dangereuses_**, Harry and Ron react to Hermione's disappearance as she faces the morning after.

****

Authors Note

Influences:

It occurred to me that I ought to list the influences behind this fic. 

First is the terrific _Les Liaisons Dangereuses_ by _Choderlos de Laclos_ from which the films _Dangerous Liaisons_ and _Cruel Intentions _were derived. 

The second major influence is _Dante _I feel a paralell between the poets chaste love for Beatrice and the Ron/Hermione situation, if you know how _Divina Commedia_ ends then you know where this fic is going. 

I must also credit the master of troublesome relationships _PG Wodehouse_ as I suspect his influence slipped in wearing a false beard (read him if you don't understand the remark). 

__

Brideshead Revisited by_ Evelyn Waugh_, how could I not be influenced by a novel which depicts a rich young man from an influential, charming and utterly disfunctinal family; 

__

Thomas Mallory's _le Morte d'Arthur _which has forever left me with the feeling that many years ago in England one could not cross a bridge without a knight popping out from beneath it and throwing down his gauntlet.

__

Terry Pratchett's _Rincewind_ novels. Don't be at all surprised if the Lecturer in Recent Runes pops up; _octarine_ already has.

__

William Shakespeare. Do I really need to point out which play?

I'll add others as I find them.

I am taking a _few_ liberties with the relationship between certain major and minor characters from canon (Blaise/Draco, Cho/Harry). I can promise that the characterisations will remain consistent within _this_ story**.**

Part one has been extensively revised. I felt that the original was not really a strong enough foundation to carry this fic. I hope that you all like this version even more than the first. Beautifully beta-ed by the goils! **Squin**, **Daphne**, **Bumblebee **… love you lots!


	2. Liaisons

**__**

Transi de Froid

By **Incitata**

Part Two: Les Liaisons Dangereuses

"So strong is the charm of a trustworthy friend"

Choderlos de Laclos

__

Les Liaisons Dangereuses. 1782

__

~0~

****

In which we discover that some actions have unexpected consequences, that forgiveness is the foundation of friendship and that help can be found in the most unlikely of places.

~0~

"What happened to you last night?" asked a sulky Ron as Hermione sat down for breakfast. His elbows rested on a crumb strewn copy of the Daily Prophet which lay open on the table. A witch on page seven scowled as a large dollop of marmalade plopped down onto her head.

"Good morning to you too!" Hermione glanced at the headlines through the crook of Ron's arm. Now was not the time to talk about last night. "Any news in that?"

Ron leaned back and shook the crumbs from the page, raising the paper so that only his forehead and a mop of red hair was visible over the top. He began to read. 

"Hogwarts Horror! Last night top student Hermione Granger disappeared from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 'We're all baffled' remarked her date Ron Weasley. 'She was here one minute and gone the next. We …"

"Very funny Ron!" Hermione snatched the paper from his grasp and stuffed it onto an empty chair. Ron was tight lipped and a tinge of pink coloured his cheeks.

"You think?" he said. "'Cause I didn't."

"It's too early in the morning for this." Hermione seized her knife and began to attack a piece of toast.

"Where _were_ you?"

"Maybe if I'd transfigured myself into a bludger you'd have known where I was." 

"What's your point Hermione?"

"Quidditch Ron. Quidditch, Quidditch, Quidditch."

He continued to look blank.

"I was bored, I went for a walk. End of story."

"You trying to butter that or butcher it?" asked Harry taking a seat opposite. He helped himself to bacon and eggs.

Hermione slapped her knife on the table and glared at the mutilated slice of toast. "I'm not hungry!"

"Did you hear about last night?" Harry continued. "Malfoy had a row with his date right in the middle of the hall." 

"So?" snapped Hermione. She felt her cheeks growing warmer.

"Couldn't've happened to a nicer person." Muttered Ron. "Serves the git right. Where'd you go Harry?"

"Ron has been appointed chief keeper of our whereabouts Harry. He'll sulk if you don't tell him." sniped Hermione before Harry could reply.

"Me and Cho went to the Muggle funfair," grinned Harry. "The Dursleys never took me to one. Great fun. What about you two?" 

"_She_ was sulking because she's no good at quidditch."

"Grow up Ron! _You_ were so absorbed in your own little Weasley world that you wouldn't have noticed if I'd cartwheeled naked round the hall."

"Well there's an image." remarked Harry. "Bad night then?"

"YES!" said Ron and Hermione in unison.

__

Not all bad

~0~

Hermione was glad that neither Harry nor Ron took Arithmancy. She settled down at her desk and nibbled on the end of her quill. She needed some time alone to think, failing that she would lose herself in her favourite subject.

"As common though the Golden ratio is in nature it is only in the last … " Professor Vectors rich voice began.

Hermione drummed her fingers on the desk. _She saw the moonlight, heard a voice, soft and compelling. The air was cold but that added a certain piquancy to the occasion. She saw her friends all talking about quidditch, she stood there how long? Then Blaise, then Malfoy. A goblet brimming with pumpkin juice. Back in the library Blaise and Padma gossiping. Then the moonlight, his voice._

"Of course Muggle researchers are also aware of the Ratio but their understanding of its true significance is several hundred years behind our own. _Pacioli_ a Muggle mathematician in his _Divina Proportione_ explains how _'this proportion of ours cannot ever be designated through intelligible numbers, nor can it be expressed through any rational quantity, but always remains occult and secret, and is called irrational by the mathematicians.' _Our success has been to understand the …"

_No, no, no!_ Hermione found herself longing for the class to be over. For once she couldn't concentrate on her work. How much longer? fifteen minutes, ten … "Are you with us Miss Granger?" Hermione jumped. Her knee banged into the underside of her desk. The jolt knocked her quill to the floor. "I'm sorry Professor Vector." "Perhaps you could take us through the five attributes of the Golden Ratio identified by Pacioli?" The professor suggested with a smile. Hermione bent down to retrieve her quill feeling the eyes of the class upon her. _Attributes? What attributes?_ "I'm sorry Professor," she admitted in a very small voice. "I didn't write them down." __

~0~

Hermione didn't feel like eating. Ron and Harry would be there and she couldn't face them yet. She didn't know what she was going to do and it was only so long before the rumours started. Rumours, that is what made her think in the first place, think that there might be something more to Draco. She smiled inwardly knowing that there was something more … but she had to tell them, before they heard from elsewhere she owed that to her friends. First tell Draco … tell him what? That it was a mistake? That she's sorry? Hermione could already picture Ron's face, hear his words, nothing would make him understand. Why had she had to be so weak.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs she turned and headed not for the great hall but for the doors. Lunch? 

Well, lunch is for people who are hungry at midday. 

Hermione paused leaning against the sturdy door. It creaked as it adjusted to her weight. She looked out onto the lawn. A dusting of snow in the early hours had covered the lawn in pristine white covering any signs that a party had happened last night. But it was not just the snow, it was the magic. The odd thing about magic Hermione observed was that it happened and then it was gone. The effects were immediate, no mess. There was a lot of good in that_. _

And so much potential for bad her conscience added.

Tired of watching her warm breath battle against the chill air Hermione allowed the door to swing shut. She dumped her bag by the boot scraper and plodded down the steps.

The walk across the lawn seemed longer than the night before. She glanced at the spindly trees in sharp relief against the horizon. Last night the sky had been soft and black, a cloak to hide in, now it had the hard look of lead. Hermione hurried not wanting any of the teachers to rush out and ask why she wasn't at lunch, it wouldn't do for a prefect to be caught out of bounds, not with the house championship so closely tied (Ravenclaw/Gryffindor – no room for convenient Slytherin animosities). Soon she was beneath the trees, her passing marked only a single trail of footprints in the shallow snow.

The clearing with its wall of brambles and view of the lake was deserted but a statue of a lady garbed in a flowing gownand tall pointed hat looked out over the lake. She appeared to be talking to a robin perched on the tip of one finger. Hermione remembered vaguely the sleeping figure from the previous night and surmised that this must be the occupant of the plinth.

"Good afternoon." said Hermione. "Do you mind if …?"

The statue turned her head to look down at Hermione. The Gryffindor prefect marvelled at the way her hair moved, it was fluid like lava. The statue smiled. 

"Be welcome my dear." The robin turned its head and examined the newcomer with beady eyes before darting away. "'Tis a chill morn to be abroad.."

"Yes … very cold." Hermione sat down at the base of the plinth and drew her robes around her. After a few minutes she wished she had gone to the tower first to get her cloak. As the cold began to turn her fingers blue she wished she had gone to the tower and stayed there. Large white flakes of snow began to land on her black school robes.

The statue of the lady lifted the hem of her gown and with a stately gait stepped down from her plinth. Her movement sounded like gravel. Hermione looked up at her.

"Methinks I have known you anon." 

"I'm sorry. I don't think so." replied Hermione glancing round to read the plaque on the base of the plinth.

****

Lady Isabella Murgatroyd

Hufflepuff and Benefactor

1468-1554

The statue coughed and swept an elegantly carved hand across her forehead. A contrived aspect of confusion. "I did stir within my sleep and happen upon a lady and her paramour escaped into the forest …"

Hermione looked up into the blank white eyes of the statue. Now in her sixth year at Hogwarts she knew that the pictures moved, that the suits of armour walked, even the gargoyles giggled but until now she'd never thought about the statues dotted around the gardens. 

"… and with the blessing of the moon did plight their troth. Now that lady is returned. Another tryst perchance?"

Hermione felt rather uncomfortable, not because she was talking to the statue of a woman who according to _Hogwarts: A History_ had donated oodles of Galleons to Hogwarts centuries ago, not because she had no idea what to say to a statue that sounded like a bad rendition of an Arthurian legend, but because she _had _hoped that she might see him here.

"Oh, last night." Hermione flushed. She hadn't realised that anyone was there. "I'm sorry – er – Lady Murgatroyd – I –"

"How now fair maid." Lady Murgatroyd said lightly patting Hermione's arm with a cold hand. "Think not that I misunderstand. The way to love is strewn with trials, requiring all a maidens wiles. Bestow thy favours amongst thine suitors as thee will but guard well thy heart until a worthy Knight dost it win."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but Lady Murgatroyd interrupted.

"Look yonder, the White Knight approaches."

Lady Murgatroyd raised her arm and pointed to the path. Through the leafless trees Hermione could see a robed figure, pale head bowed, moving quickly. By the time she turned back Lady Murgatroyd had returned to her plinth and stood rigid gazing out over the lake.

He had almost reached her by the time he looked up. 

"Draco." From his look she could tell that he hadn't expected her to be here. He stood there, pale as ever. Cold had never seemed to affect Malfoy that way. Not even quidditch in winter put colour in his cheeks. But Hermione suspected that he was angry about something.

"Hermione." He nodded in greeting. "I didn't know you'd be here. I'll leave."

"Stay if you want, makes no difference to me." _He must have seen my bag, followed my tracks._

Draco squinted raising a hand to keep the swirling snow out of his eyes.

"I didn't see you at breakfast."

"I didn't stay long. Ron and Harry they …" Hermione paused. She'd already given quite enough away to their enemy.

"Have you been to lunch?"

"I have to go to the library before Care of Magical Creatures." Hermione pushed herself to her feet. "It's too cold out here anyway. I'll see you round."

She headed toward the path and brushed past Draco. "Wait" he said stopping her with a hand on her shoulder.

"So that I can freeze and you can stand around glowering at me?" Hermione brushed his hand away. "I don't think so!" 

"So I can apologise…for last night…should never have happened."

"Nice Draco, very nice. Pretend it never happened. Can't let your little friends know you associate with Muggle borns can we?"

"It's not like that … let me explain."

"Don't worry. Your sordid little secret is save with me Malfoy. Besides I wouldn't want anyone to know I'd _been_ with you!"

"Will you listen for just one minute."

"I've listened long enough. Forget it. There is absolutely nothing you can say to me that will …"

He kissed her then. Hermione pulled away reaching for her bag and her wand but her bag was on the steps of the school. "What did you do that for?" she snapped. "If you touch me again I'll hex you to Hawaii and back!"

"I could disarm you in a second Hermione. Wand or no wand." This close she was very aware of him. Years of quidditch training had given him a fit lean body and a certain agility and reflexes that seemed unique to seekers. Harry had the same qualities but Hermione had never felt threatened by Harry. "Do me one favour," he requested in a politicians voice. "Let me explain."

"No Draco. No explanations. Not from you. I don't want to know. But you do me a favour and listen to mine. I don't love you Draco, I never will, last night … Last night was a mistake it was as much my fault as yours."

"Was it?" he asked cryptically.

"Yes." She replied emphatically. "Yes it was. It will not happen again. Please leave me alone. I'm sure you'll not find that too difficult. Tomorrow is the last day of term"

Hermione turned to go but Draco caught her sleeve.

"Listen, Hermione …"

__

~0~

Double Divination. Ron had no idea what hell was like but he suspected that if it wasn't raging fires it would look something like the chintzy parlour of Madame Trelawny complete with patterned scarves and cloying incense. 

Lunchtime at last! Like two tortured souls given a reprieve and a free ticket to heaven he and Harry slipped down the ladder.

"What happened with you and Hermione?" asked Harry once they were clear of Lavender and Parvati. 

Ron shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I dunno. She just went off in a huff. I didn't do anything." He didn't feel able to say what was really worrying him, it was just too outrageous to contemplate … but the rumours. Ron resorted to man's age old explanation for the peculiar behaviour of women. "I reckon it must be her time of the month."

"Yeah right Ron. There's no truth in it you know."

"Ginny turns into a total psycho every four weeks." Ron tried to ignore what Harry was getting at. " … and Mum …"

"In the rumours. Hermione wouldn't give Malfoy the time of day. Anyway she went to the dance with you. She's your friend, he's a toe-rag who'd say anything just to annoy you."

"Where did she go?" Ron whined. He didn't want to have to admit that Hermione had good reason to be annoyed with him but Harry wouldn't let go.

"You _were_ talking about quidditch Ron. I was there. Bet you anything she got fed up and went to the library, go and talk to her."

"Take her side why don't you!" Ron sighed, already resigned to admitting it was his fault.

__

~0~

Hermione wasn't in the great hall. None of the other Gryffindors had seen her so Ron grabbed a slice of steak and kidney pie and went in search of her. She wasn't in the library, the Fat Lady hadn't seen her since she had left the tower earlier that morning. He was about to give up and go back to lunch when the picture of a singing nun on the great staircase told him that she had seen her go out into the grounds.

Ron smiled to himself as he heaved open the huge door. Harry was right. He was just being stubborn. Hermione had more sense than to go along with any of Malfoys games. He shivered as an icy breeze whipped around his ankles. There was Hermione's bag capped with new fallen snow.

Two sets of footprints were visible, both crossing the snow covered lawn. The first were now almost covered but the second larger set were more recent. Both pairs of feet had gone the same way. Ron followed the footprints, his own feet crunching on the fresh snow. As he reached the trees he brushed the snowflakes from his hair. There were no prints here but there was only one way down the narrow path. Ron heard voices.

"Please leave me alone. I'm sure you'll not find that too difficult. Tomorrow is the last day of term." Hermione's voice.

Through the trees he saw Malfoy grab Hermione's arm. She looked ready to burst into tears. "Bastard!"Ron snarled "Bullying piece of …"

"Listen, Hermione …"

"Get your slimy hands off her Malfoy!" Ron yelled bursting through the shrubbery. 

Malfoy stepped back tossing Hermione's hand aside as though it was soiled.

"Gladly." 

Ron shoved Malfoy away from her. "Pick on someone your own size." He was quite ready to beat him to a pulp.

"Well, you'd have to fight a lamppost wouldn't you!" Malfoy retorted. "Here's your little hero Granger." He swept past Ron and sniggered as he sauntered toward the school without a backward glance.

"Hermione." Ron said. His heart was pounding. "Are you okay? I –"

"I can handle Malfoy myself Ron!" Hermione raged. "He doesn't scare me. Let me deal with my own problems. I'm sick of you people interfering. Just leave me alone."

Ron gaped as Hermione stormed down the path. 

"Just what _is_ your problem?" he muttered. He stared down at her footprints and followed them to the path. What good would following her do? Ron didn't really want to be yelled at again. When did everything become so complicated? 

Ron turned back and leaned against the plinth. He stared mesmerised by falling snowflakes white against grey against white against grey until a sound like a slab of marble being dragged over gravel brought him round.

Ron could have sworn that he heard the words. "Ah, the Red Knight."

__

~Fin~

In **_Part Three: Strange Allies_**, when the bonds of friendship strain Hermione discovers what it is like to be alone and seeks refuge with another outcast.

Information regarding the Golden Ratio came from a fascinating website I discovered which looks at the use of this particular ratio in architecture, art and music. Article by: _J J O'Connor_ and _E F Robertson_

http://www-history.mcs.st-andrews.ac.uk/history/HistTopics/Golden_ratio.html 

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.


	3. Strange Allies

**__**

Transi de Froid

By **Incitata**

Part Three: Strange Allies

"We're strange allies,

with warring hearts"

The Space Between

__

Dave Matthews Band

~0~

****

Sometimes it is necessary to take refuge, sometimes it takes a glimpse of another world before we appreciate our own.

~0~

Hermione sat at the side of her bed with her feet dangling uselessly over the edge. Her arms were wrapped tight around a pillow squashed into her lap. She flopped back and dropped the pillow down on her face but it couldn't block out her thoughts. She was alone in the sixth year girls dormitory. There were only five other people in the Gryffindor tower; Harry, Ron, Ginny and two first year girls who Ginny appeared to have adopted. 

It didn't feel like Christmas. 

Having dismissed the idea of staying in bed until next term Hermione hauled herself to a sitting position and after convincing herself that it was the right thing to do she stood. 

The wooden floor was cold against her bare feet though a fire burned in the grate filling the room with a pleasant crackle and smell of oaky smoke. It disguised some of the winter chill. She quickly exchanged night-clothes for a pair of faded Levis and a loose white shirt. She didn't tuck in the hem. 

With a sigh Hermione dumped her patterned winceyette pyjamas in a heap at the head of the bed. She glared at them.

__

That's me isn't it? Comfy cotton. She did not take her eyes off the offending garments_. Nothing daring there. Not the sort of person to risk everything on a whim. So why, clever clogs, are you doing just that?_

Hermione distracted herself from that question by bending down to pull on her boots. She eyed the stack of presents at the end of her bed wanting to scoop them up in her arms and carry them through to the boys dorm. Much more fun to open them with friends, but Ron wasn't speaking to her.

__

"Ron. Ron, please wait." she'd had to run to catch up with him. 

"Need someone to yell at?" he scowled. His eyes seemed to be studying something far above her head.

"Ron., I'm sorry. It was a lovely thing you did. I just …"

"I know, you just want to sort out your own problems. Be my guest Hermione, sort away!" he scratched his freckled nose as he continued. "I don't know what's got into you recently. You're a nice girl Hermione and a good friend but I don't know what to say to you any more. I want to help but I can't until you want me to. I…"

"No. I want to …"

"Sorry Hermione. Not until you've sorted yourself out … I don't want to destroy what little we have left."

"… apologise."

"It's not enough."

"So it's all my problem?" Hermione said softly. She felt flint strike flint deep within. That spark took hold, kindled by confusion. "Take a look at yourself Ron before you lay all the blame on me. You haven't got a clue what you want so how the hell could you possibly help me? I came here to apologise Ron, to thank you for your help but you've just reminded me what a pig headed, self obsessed, parrot faced wassack you are! I don't want your help, now or ever. I don't need it. I don't need YOU!"

Tears streaming down her face, Hermione pushed past Ron and through the small crowd of vultures in human form that had gathered, attracted by her shrieks. She ran left, right, until she came to the deserted Divination corridor. Finally she paused for breath slumped against the wall. Still shaking with rage and indignation she bit hard on her knuckles to stop herself from crying all over again.

What on earth would he think if he knew what had really happened?

It was all Hermione remembered of the last day of term.

__

~0~

THRUMP. Hermione looked round. "Crookshanks, is that you?"

THRUMP. There it was again. It sounded like someone kicking … the door.

"Come in." Called Hermione.

"Can you open the door for me?"

"Two secs." Hermione pulled on her other boot and clumped over to the door. She twisted the smooth round knob and pulled open the door. Harry stood there with a slightly absent grin on his face. He cradled three brightly wrapped parcels in his arms. Harry shuffled in leaving the door ajar and dropped the lot on the bed. He sat down beside the heap.

"You'll break your neck on that!" Harry was pointing at the floor.

"What?" Hermione looked down at her feet. "Oh, the lace! Thanks Harry." She bent down to tie it.

"This ones from me." He shook the blue one. "That's from the Weasleys and the other one's from Ron. He told me not to give it to you but I think deep down he'd like you to have it."

"I'm not sure I want it." Hermione rummaged in her trunk and extracted two packages, one small and square, the other long and flat. "For you and Ron. Tell him he can burn it if he wants to." She handed them to Harry and sat cross legged on the rug. "Pass me a pressie then!"

Hermione began to peel away the shiny blue wrapping.

"Just rip it off," Harry suggested. He was already examining the apple sized crystal ball Hermione had given to him. "Very … erm … practical … thanks." he muttered. Hermione did not hear him.

"Spoils the surprise." Hermione slowed down a little just to emphasise her point. "Wow, a Moke skin money bag. Thanks Harry. And I'm sure this huge book of revision questions will come in _very_ handy!" she added without a hint of sarcasm.

Fudge from Mrs Weasley, a portable wireless tuned permanently to the Wizarding Wireless Network from the parents. There was only one that Hermione hadn't opened; a small squashy green one.

"You should take this back Harry." she held it out. 

He shook his head. "If you don't want it you'll have to give it back yourself. I'm not taking sides. Open it and come down to breakfast."

Hermione laid the parcel aside. "I'll have breakfast up here," she said as Crookshanks slipped in through the open door, and padded softly across the floor. He nuzzled his way into Hermione's lap. "You go with Ron. There's no point in us _all_ falling out."

"C'mon Hermione, it's Christmas. Can't you two just forget it?"

Sadly, she shook her head and looked down at Crookshanks. There was some comfort in the low Rrrrrrrr Rrrrrrrr of the large ginger cat. "It's not that easy Harry," she explained, "I wish it was but we both said some things … I don't think we should see each other for a while, until we've both calmed down. If he ever calms down."

"Don't be daft. He'll come round." Harry slipped off the bed and knelt down beside Hermione. She felt a strong arm around her shoulders. "Give it a few days we'll all be back to normal, hey?"

__

You wouldn't say that if you knew what I'd done. 

"Thanks Harry." Hermione squeezed out a weak smile. "Cho's lucky to have you. Anyway, I've got a lot of work to do this holiday. You keep Ron out of trouble … and come up and see me when you get the time." 

As Harry closed the door behind him Hermione tore open Ron's green gift. She threw the paper to the floor. It was a scarf. A scarf that shimmered in the winter sunlight and slipped through her fingers like water. _Silk and Demiguise_ the tiny embroidered label announced. How long had he saved for this?

"Oh, Ron." 

A tear flupped down and sank, deep into Crookshanks soft fur.

__

~0~

Hermione heard the boys before she saw them. She threw open the diamond paned window and looked down into the courtyard. Big kids chucking handfuls of snow at one another. Ginny's squeal as Ron dumped a pile of snow onto her head. She wanted to join them but if she broke this exile and went down there Ron would storm off. Better to take the time to work out a plan of action. At least she wouldn't be disturbed by …

"Hermione."

__

Oh no. 

"I thought you'd gone home for Christmas." Hermione said, a feeling of apprehension building. She did not turn round.

"Change of plan." Draco shrugged. "Shit happens."

"What do you want?" 

Draco rested his shoulder against the window frame and stared at Hermione, she could see him lurking like a spectre on the edge of her vision. He continued to stare until she looked at him. "Not down there with your friends?" His left eyebrow arched. "Come to think of it you weren't at Christmas lunch … not feeling _sick_ are you?"

"Do you want to get to the point?" she regarded him with scorn. Draco Malfoy was, thought Hermione, the only person her age she knew who wore robes out of term time but they were not school robes. These were a thick, rich black that swirled and clung on command. They seemed to be a rebellious statement directed the students in Hogwarts who jumped into Muggle clothes the minute the train carried their fellows away for the holidays. To Hermione they spat; _I am **nothing** like you!_ The sentiment was echoed in the studied drawl of their owner:

"Ah yes, you have some very important staring out of the window to do. Don't let me disturb you. It just occurred to me that you've missed almost every meal for the last few days. Not _pining_ for someone..."

"Funny, you look different without your goons." Hermione wanted to hurt him for all the trouble he'd caused. At that moment she would happily have pushed him out of the window and listened gladly as he landed far below with a satisfying crunch. Somehow she didn't think she would get very far with that plan so she resorted to his own weapon of choice. Words. "Looks like they couldn't wait to get away from you. Now, I thought you all dropped dead if you were apart for more than ten minutes…"

"Ts, ts, ts!. Well _you_ should know _that_ isn't true," his words mocked but Hermione noticed a fleeting tightness around his eyes, something she had never seen before. "Besides, it doesn't work that way Hermione," it was the first time she'd looked quite so closely. "When did _you_ ever stay here just 'cause Potter did?"

"I'm here now."

"And the previous five years?"

"You've got a short memory Malfoy," she'd stayed in the second year when Harry and Ron had sneaked into the Slytherin common room 'disguised' as Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione would have been with them but for an accident that confined her to the infirmary. The memory of those unfortunate weeks partially transformed into Millicent Bulstrode's cat still made Hermione want to twitch her tail in irritation. She supposed that Draco remained utterly ignorant of the polyjuice incident and saw no need to enlighten him now. She sucked in a breath and attempted to be pleasant; "Why are you staying?"

Draco turned away. He folded his arms on the window sill and kicked the wall with one foot. His attention drifted somewhere deep in the smoke grey winter sky. Hermione could not see his eyes, only the movement of his jaw as he spoke. "My parents decided to go to the Urals … _without_ me."

"Don't you usually have Christmas at home?" Hermione imagined a rather Victorian Christmas. The gilded façade of a well mannered 'model' family warmed by a blazing fire. There was a huge Christmas tree, family friends coming to call…

"Sometimes at home, sometimes elsewhere … usually they tell me. But not this year…"

… the image of a cluster of his parents Death Eater friends robed and masked, knocking on a huge door ready to come a-wassailing popped into Hermione's mind. She snorted loudly at the absurd image.

"What?" Draco's eyes narrowed. His enjoyment of laughing at misfortune appeared not to extend to his own.

"Nothing," Hermione fought down a chuckle. "Why are they going to the Urals? Vampire country isn't it? Not exactly hospitable at this time of year, or ever."

"I didn't ask." he replied cocking his head so that his full gaze fell upon her. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. I just thought …"

"You still have to know everything don't you?" Draco cut her short. "Always another question. Well here's one for you Granger, if you're so bloody clever." Low steady voice, almost melodic. "Why do those people down there, the ones that you've lived the last five years with. Why do they not understand you? Why do they not tell you what they truly feel?" His eyes flashed the hue of honed steel only twelve times sharper. "How can you continue to call them your friends when they are content to leave you here, alone?"

"I didn't come here to debate philosophy." The questions were unfair but they were the same questions Hermione had been asking herself all morning. She did not want them asked by Draco Malfoy. Hermione bit her lip before responding to her smooth tongued interrogator. "If all you're going to do is taunt me Malfoy, give up. It won't work."

Hermione watched as he turned away from the window. He leaned back against the bare stone wall and folded his arms, still speaking in the same even annoying tone. "Have you ever been truly alone Hermione Granger? No-one to rely on but yourself? No Potter, no Weasley to run to your rescue?"

"I'm an only child Malfoy, if that's what you mean!" she bristled. "At home there's only me and my parents, I'm quite happy with my own company."

"Then we have something in common. Now why don't you stop being an ass." Draco swung himself round and placed one hand at either side of the narrow window frame. Trapped, Hermione looked up at him. "You're not exactly my first choice of person to spend the Christmas holidays with and I suspect I'm not yours but it looks like neither of us have much choice and I'm damned if I'm going to spend the next week with a bunch of giggling first year girls." Draco's tone slipped seamlessly from mocking to commanding with practised ease. 

"Well you _really_ know how to make a girl feel wanted." Hermione guessed that he wasn't used to argument from his peers but if he thought that she was going to roll over he'd better think again. She shifted suddenly and knocked his left arm out of the way. He keeled forward but recovered quickly his balance.

"Apparently I do," Draco replied as he carefully placed his hand back against the wall as if in anticipation of a second assault. "_You_ might be surprised."

__

~0~

It has long been assumed that the Astronomy tower is the favoured meeting place for illicit assignations among the more adventurous element of the student body. Yet at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, those young adventurers who actually want to keep their liaison a secret, who do not relish the idea of the caretaker, Mr Filch, or his nosy cat, Mrs Norris intruding on their most intimate moments choose a less symbolic location …

"What is this place?" asked Hermione as the door clicked shut. She dropped her bag beside the door and slid the bolt home. Desks were stacked haphazardly against one wall, three wobbly piles of chairs against another. The floor was carpeted only with a thin layer of dust. A wide empty fireplace grinned vacantly from the far end of the room. There was little evidence to suggest that anyone living had been here recently. 

"An old classroom," replied Draco, "I found it a few years back." He strode across the room disturbing the dust which filled his wake with spirals that curled slowly up toward the high beamed ceiling. Draco scraped a chair along the floor and stood on it while he opened the high windows just a gap. A brilliant blade of light cut through the dusty air but without this aid the winter sun could barely penetrate the filthy panes. 

Draco hopped down from the chair. "There used to be an old mirror in here, right where you're standing. Strangest thing. I think it showed the future. Would you believe I saw my own wedding day? Extraordinary thing really. I mentioned it to my father, he told me not to go skulking around the school at night …"

"Really?" Hermione muttered. She suspected that she had heard of that same mirror. Harry had encountered it back in his first year… but was that really Draco's hearts deepest desire? She resisted the temptation to ask him the identity of his bride.

"Yes, miserable old sod, as if _he_ didn't when he …

Hermione sighed and retrieved up her bag. She walked toward the fireplace. One thing that was becoming apparent about Draco was that he had a fondness for lecturing. As she took her wand from her bag she wondered where he had picked up that habit. She squatted by the grate and In a few seconds Hermione had a small fire burning. "That's better." She straightened and tossed her bag into the corner. "Did you bring a rug?"

"… he told me that in his third year he … What?"

"A rug! I don't really want to sit on a cold stone floor."

"Hmmm. No. I did go to the kitchens and order the house elves to bring food, should be here any minute."

"Well, I'll sit on a plate of sandwiches shall I?"

"Honestly Hermione, I don't think that sarcastic tone suits you." Draco removed the robes from around his shoulders and spread them on the floor. Beneath them he wore black, soft, smooth and fitted. A sharp contrast with his colouring and sculpted features. She watched as he sat down, the bluish flames made his skin glow. 

"Come, sit." he said.

"If you promise not to tell me what suits me and what doesn't."

"Promise!"

Hermione sat as bidden, her right leg curled beneath the left. She pointed her wand at the dancing flames. They grew and a spread a little further. "There's an awful chill in this room." She remarked.

"Hmmmmm." Draco reclined fully, leaning his weight on his elbows. His legs stretched out, feet very near the flames raised a few inches on the hearth. "Why do you suppose they call it Boxing Day? My father has often asked me this question but so far I haven't managed a satisfactory answer. Do you …"

"Because traditionally boxing matches and other sporting events, horse racing, football matches things like that were held the day after Christmas." Hermione said, unaware of the glare she attracted for interrupting his speculation. "It's just a name that we've picked up from Muggles."

"Boxing matches? What's that?" Draco enquired though his tone was disinterested.

"Two men wear padded gloves and they beat the hell out of one another in a series of rounds. Barbaric really."

"And Muggles call _that_ sport? Damned uncivilised if you ask me. Is it any wonder that …" he did not complete the sentence, instead a tense silence settled with the dust. 

"That what?" Hermione was curious as to what he was reluctant to say about to say about Muggles and their pastimes.

"Nothing. Where's that ruddy little elf with the food?"

"Probably terrified to come near you, Draco," Hermione was about to say something more but stopped herself. They'd agreed not to let their prejudices get in the way but there was one thing that Hermione was curious about. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead." his eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.

How to phrase it? Maybe he would just laugh at her and refuse to comment. "Why are you here Draco, with me? Your family has certain _associations_ and I don't think they'd like it."

"There's no-one else around to talk to," he continued staring into the darkness. "Consider it an honour."

__

Arrogant swine. "I'm _so_ grateful!" 

Was he joking? Hermione wasn't sure.

"Ts, ts, ts! Sarcasm again!" he said, honey sweet but with a growing undertone of warning. "I know what you want to ask; Is my father a Death Eater. Am _I_ a Death Eater?" A soft low chuckle emerged from Draco's throat. "Well, as if I'd tell _you_!" He swung his left arm out so that it landed heavily in Hermione's lap. "Take a look. It will answer part of your question."

Hermione hesitated. His directness unnerved her. It made her question her own assumptions. This tactic worked on Hermione where more subtle attempts at manipulation would have failed. She wondered, was he always this candid or was it something he had designed specially for her. 

Slowly, tentatively, she rolled the sleeve of soft black stuff up his arm. The muscle flinched at her touch. Draco did not resist as she turned his arm so that his hand lay palm up. Hermione bit her lower lip as she slid his sleeve up a little further, all the way up past the elbow. She realised that she had been holding her breath only when a ragged gasp spilled from her chest, like a diver submerged too long bursting out of the water. 

His skin was unblemished.

"I told you that you couldn't be right about everything!" Still Draco did not look at her but Hermione saw that he was smiling. It wasn't a warm smile. He drew back his arm and carefully rolled down the sleeve before placing it behind his head.

"Do you _really_ think it's a family business?" he sneered. "Haven't you ever looked at the basic organisation of terrorist groups?" 

One look at her expression would have told him that she had not.

"… I believe it's a common way for Muggles to press their cause when they are in disagreement with the majority. Take one cause and one charismatic leader. Trusted followers are recruited, only the leader knows who they are. Most families will be utterly unaware that a member of the group lives in their midst. Loyalty and ability must be proven. In other cases the entire community knows exactly who is involved but there is no evidence so there is nothing that the authorities can do to them …" 

Hermione realised then that Draco was no longer talking and that he was staring up at her. She focussed on his lips as he spoke. "Don't look so shocked Hermione. I'm a realist, not a romantic. If you don't want to hear the answer, don't ask the question." 

Glare met glare …… 

In the following seconds several things happened. A House Elf, younger than any Hermione had ever seen (and clearly too curious for it's own good) popped into view bearing a tray four times its own width. A low table appeared and it set the tray down. It grinned awkwardly from beneath a large hat carefully folded from an old yellowed copy of the daily prophet.

Draco raised himself on one elbow and aimed a sharp blow at the elf and Hermione lunged forward to knock him away. They landed in a tangle of limbs and his hand met with empty air. The creature was gone.

"What did you do that for?" Hermione screeched pulling away from Draco as quickly as she could. Nonchalantly, he resumed his previous position.

"Badly trained thing like that wouldn't last a minute in _our_ house, sloppy little …" he looked at Hermione as though she'd just exclaimed; _"Hogwarts; A History? Never heard of it!"_. "They're not meant to be seen," he protested before his patience ran out. "Oh come on Hermione!" his voice cracked like lightening through the charged air. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Hermione ignored the question. She was already on her feet. "You obviously think you can abuse anyone or anything. I don't want to be part of that."

"Sit down and listen to me," he commanded. 

Hermione remained standing. She watched as he flipped lightly to his feet. His eyes burned like magnesium, bright against the dim light. He stood back, regarding her critically down his long thin nose. "Do you want me to lie to you Hermione? Do you want me to make you believe that I am what I am not? …"

"Of course I don't …"

He talked straight over as he paced slowly about the room with his hands clasped loosely behind his back. "… I could do that, but I thought _you_ valued honesty and honesty means seeing all the less pleasant aspects of a person does it not? I'd hate you to have any illusions about me. Why don't you just accept that I know things that you do not such as the fact that there is only one way to train a damned House Elf? There's a lot you could learn from me … if you'd listen!"

"Maybe in your twisted little mind, Malfoy. I…"

"You're here because I'm different, because I'm not a _nice guy_, because I'm so different to your dear, dear friends. You're intrigued by my world and you've been given a chance to look into it, and you're taking it. Maybe it makes you feel good to get one over on Weasley. I should think that …"

"I think I should go." said Hermione.

"As you wish," Malfoy grinned then sat down and began to help himself to sandwiches. He waved a dismissive hand in her direction. "Do close the door on your way out."

Hermione was tempted to give him a good smack, hard, right on the side of his overinflated head. What had she expected, him begging her to stay?

"Fine!" Hermione snatched up her bag and stormed toward the door. He appeared not to notice. She paused in the doorway and turned, pointing her wand at the fireplace. A wide jet of water shot out extinguishing the blue flame with a hiss. She let it widen into a spray and adjusted very slightly the trajectory. Draco yelped as the freezing rain covered him. Hermione smiled and slammed the door shut behind her.

__

~0~

With great amusement Draco sought her out the next day and took her down to the kitchens. There, with apparent sincerity he apologised to the House Elf and Hermione agreed that they might continue to share lunch in the empty classroom.

__

~0~

Hermione thought that the drenching had done him some good.

__

~Fin~

In** Part Four: Pax **our allies reach agreement yet others appear less than satisfied.

****

Authors Notes

This chapter was a bit shorter than I intended but I decided that what is coming merited a chapter all of its own. If writing goes according to plan this fic will now be six chapters. Hmmmmm.

There's a little extract from my all time favourite insult, we used it when I was about ten --- _You great idle, spawny eyed, parrot faced wassack!_ --- What's a wassack? I have absolutely no idea!

Someone asked if they had gone further than making out. Well, I'm leaving that to your imagination. I happen to be terrible at writing sex scenes. Also I want to leave it open though there is a very strong implication…

Now correct me if I'm wrong but was it not Brian Lumley's rather marvellous vampire series that set the Urals as being Vampire country?

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.


	4. Pax

**__**

Transi de Froid

By **Incitata**

Part Four: Pax

"He sang as if he knew me   
In all my dark despair  
And then he looked right through me 

as if I wasn't there"

****

Killing Me Softly

Sung by Roberta Flack, 1973.

~0~

"Where will you be tomorrow night?" enquired Draco. They were sharing lunch for the fifth day in a row in the empty classroom. The room, at first so cold and dusty had acquired a warmth and familiarity entirely of their own creation. Fragile and forbidden. "With your dear, dear friends? Or are you still not speaking?"

Hermione shook her head. "New Year is likely to be about as much fun as Christmas."

"Why Hermione, I'm crushed, " he grasped her hand and held it fleetingly to his chest. "Can you ever forgive me for being such dreadful company?" 

"Never," she lay facing him with her back to the fire, Hermione's head rested on his right arm. Draco's other hand trailed over her hip, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt.

"What ever do you think they would say if they could see you now?" he asked, with idle curiosity, "Do you think they'd be surprised that Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Prefect, born of Muggles was lying in front of a fire entwined in the arms of a Malfoy."

"What would _your_ family say?" Hermione asked; she picked at an imaginary piece of fluff on his shoulder. "I bet that would be something to see."

"Hmm. Let me see," Draco leaned toward Hermione and began to twist a strand of hair gently around one finger. He spoke very slowly. "I imagine that several aged aunts would drop dead, followed closely by a random assortment of strokes and a healthy bout of apoplexy all round; Father would have a fit," his finger reached Hermione's scalp and when he gently tugged the knot of hair she had no choice but to follow. He brushed her lips with his. "And following that fifteen generations past would spin in their graves …just an average day really!"

"I don't think Harry and Ron would ever speak to me again."

"Seems like you're half way there already," remarked Draco. He was so close that she could feel his hot breath damp against her cheek. He smelled spicy sweet, cinnamon and ginger. Intense and intoxicating. "Say, why don't we complete the process? Isn't it time you got some new friends anyway, surely you must have outgrown them by now!" Hermione couldn't see his lips move but she could feel him, warm at her side and suddenly menacing. 

Carefully he uncoiled the long strand of hair from about his finger. Hermione felt it drop against her cheek.

Hermione drew back, wary. She never could tell when he was joking. The dancing firelight sent shadows, fleeting and interesting across his face. They deepened the wryly twisted corners of his mouth. She thought him was too worldly and too dangerous to be beautiful. "You wouldn't do that."

"I might if you gave me reason to," Draco said. Hermione couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. Was that what this was all about? Blackmail. Then she caught the glint in his eye and he burst into soft gurgling laughter. "I've no intention of doing any such thing. You really are delightfully stupid sometimes."

It was in this way that Draco exercised a subtle authority over Hermione. Though she would not have cared to admit it he was adept at playing her emotions, at exploiting each weakness he had identified at their first encounter after the Christmas dance. It fed the part of her that found it refreshing not to be the one with all the answers, to succumb to the other part of her nature, that part which did not want to be in control.

She sighed and poked the end of his nose, "And you are unpleasantly patronising Malfoy."

He ignored that comment. "I _do_ think that you should start speaking to them again. Can you imagine what fun it would be, knowing that you were coming here to me and that they knew nothing of it …" Draco raised his head, he seemed to peer deep into the darkest, dustiest corners of the room. "Did you hear that noise?"

Hermione shook her head and got to her knees; she listened carefully, "It's the door."

"Stay here," Draco got to his feet followed closely by Hermione. They tiptoed cautiously over to the door. It was a solid door, and bolted, but over here the scratching was unmistakably louder. Something was out there.

"Open it," Hermione watched as he undid the bolt. It couldn't be Filch. The old caretaker would have hammered on the door and yelled at the top of his thin reedy voice if he was outside. Why the scratching? Rats? Peeves?

"It's Mrs Norris," said Hermione, flatly.

Draco nodded in acknowledgement. He pulled open the door. The glowing lantern eyes of the caretakers cat stared up at them, but only for a moment. The animal blinked once and seemed to grin before darting off down the corridor. 

Hermione looked up at Draco who stared after the cat. 

"Lets get out of here shall we," she suggested. Dashing back into the room she doused the flame and grabbed her bag. "Quick!" No time to clear up the remains of their lunch or to hide the heat from the fire; she could only hope that the little House Elf could clear up before Filch arrived, but the caretakers speed was legendary …

The pair pelted down the corridor and turned left at the bottom. Third floor. Where to go. No time to get to the library. They would pass Filch on the way down to the entrance hall. Where?

"Upstairs!" said Draco grabbing her hand. He ran, dragging Hermione behind him up a narrow staircase. They paused and heard the pounding of quickly moving feet rising from the corridor below.

"Where now?" she cried, as he led her round another corner, down another hallway. They turned corner after corner and all the while Hermione had the feeling that Filch was gaining on them. "Stop for one second Draco." Hermione clutched her side. "I can't run, cramp."

  
"It's no time to start whinging now/." Draco scolded. "Get a move on or I'll leave you here! That man would love to get _me_ for something. Now, where the hell are we?"

"You led us here. You tell me …" she glanced round, "Fourth floor."

Footsteps growing closer. "This way, and watch the step." Hermione pushed back a tapestry and led the way up another staircase, a short cut that the Gryffindors used everyday. They climbed, tripping in their haste. "Down here." 

Draco and Hermione found themselves in an empty corridor, the eyes of the portraits peering at them with interest, startled by the unusually loud clatter of feet. They dashed straight past the statue of Boris the bewildered and skidded to a halt. 

"Prefects bathroom!" they said in unison both grinning like idiots as they scurried back, one, two, three … fourth door. "_Parallax_." gasped Hermione and Draco fighting for breath.

The door swung smoothly open and the pair plunged into the bathroom.

Hermione slammed the door closed and bolted the door. Safe. 

The Gryffindor bent double, resting her hands on her knees and sucked in deep gaping breathes as she tried not to laugh. Her sides hurt. She looked over at Draco who leaned with his back against the door, face flushed from the exercise.

"That was close!" he laughed. "I thought he had us."

"Wouldn't it look good," said Hermione, with relief. She swung her legs over the side of the deep rectangular bath to sit between two of the many golden taps. "Two prefects caught out of bounds. I suppose we'd better sit it out here."

There were worse places to hide than the cool white marble bathroom, softly lit by candlelight. Maybe grab a few of those towels to sit on, pull open the windows and look out onto the grounds. Hermione looked at the mermaid who swished her tail and looked down on the newcomers with interest from her gilt framed portrait. Hermione thought that the look the mermaid cast at Draco from beneath her swathe of golden hair was more appropriate for a succubus than a mermaid, though she said nothing. 

"Why don't we …"

Someone hammered hard on the door. 

"Open up, I know you're in there," it was Filch. "Breaking into bathrooms isn't going to save you."

"Turn on the taps," said Hermione, "And pass me a bath robe."

"Great plan Hermione!" Draco stared at her as if she had gone mad. 

"just do it!" she said as the banging continued. "And hide somewhere."

Hermione pulled off her boots and socks and stuffed them behind one of the long linen curtains. She rolled up the legs of her jeans as she listened to the shouts and threats of Filch growing ever louder above the roar of the water now pouring into the marble bathtub. Quickly she pulled her arms into the fluffy white bathrobe and tied the front so that it hid her clothes. The room was beginning to fill with steam and the scent of bubblebath as she arranged her features into what she hoped was the right expression for someone about to take a bath. 

Hermione signalled for Draco to turn off the taps.

As she unlocked the door she heard a great splash somewhere behind.

Argus Filch stood there, jowls red and eyes bulging. Mrs Norris weaved in and out of his legs emitting a broken rasping purr. Hermione could have sworn the cat looked smug.

"Mister Filch?" she said in surprise. "Can I help you?"

"That's the _prefects_ bathroom," Filch snarled. "Trespassing, breaking an entry …"

  
"I _am_ a prefect!" interrupted Hermione, furious, wishing that she could reach her badge and stick it in front of his large, bulging nose. "Can I help you?"

"There's students canoodlin' and lighting fires and leaving food about this place. If I catch them there'll be trouble. I'll string them up by the …"

"Well, there's only me in here Mister Filch. You're welcome to check for canoodlers if you wish," said Hermione cheerfully. She stood back from the door so that he could see into the mist of scented steam that hung over the rippling water of a newly drawn bath. 

"No miss, I'll not but woe betide them if they cross _my_ path," Filch flicked his grizzled hair off his shoulder irritably. "You're that Potters friend aren't you …?" he said slowly, as if that were enough to convict. Hermione was glad that she had stayed out of trouble, she had the feeling that if she had been Ron or Harry nothing would have stopped him from calling for a full investigation.

"Yes Mister Filch." Hermione adopted the strained polite tone of someone who had been unreasonably disturbed.

"I'll be watching _you_ …" he said, pointing. "Watching all of you!" Mrs Norris somehow contrived to look disappointed as Filch turned away muttering to himself. After a second she followed, thin moth eaten tail held high in the air.

"Well if you don't mind I'll get back to my bath!" said Hermione in a low voice. "Horrible little man, fancy not knowing I'm a prefect!"

"Draco. Its clear," she called as she bolted the door. "Draco?" Where was he? There was no tell tale bulge behind the curtain, he hadn't had time to slip out of the window. Aah! 

Hermione pulled back the chunky sleeves of the bathrobe and knelt down by the edge of the bath. Steadying herself against a tap she extended an arm and swished it through the deep, warm water. Nothing!

A hand clamped itself round her wrist and pulled her sharply forward. Hermione plunged headfirst into the bath and emerged spluttering near a very damp Draco. 

"What did you do that for?" she shrieked wiping a mass of bubbles from her nose.

"I thought he was coming in to look," Draco coughed, struggling to regain his breath, his silver hair slick and dark from the water. "This was the only place I wouldn't be seen. You make a surprisingly good liar Hermione."

"I don't feel good about it," Hermione struggled to free herself of the bathrobe which sank heavily below the bubbles. "I'm a prefect, I'm not meant to go around lying to school staff, for any reason."

"Well don't worry about it. We got away with it," Draco hooked his arm over the edge of the bath to save himself the effort of swimming. "You take responsibility far too seriously."

"You sound just like Ron!" 

"That badge Hermione," he pointed at he prefect badge pinned to her sodden sweater. "Why do you wear that badge Hermione?" he asked. "To remind yourself that you are a prefect, or to remind everyone else?"

"You're a prefect too Malfoy," 

"Do you see _me_ wearing a _badge_ out of term time?" 

Hermione looked down at her badge treading water all the while. It was tiring work with all her clothes on. Did he have a point?

"Why not forget it for once," with deft fingers Draco unclipped the badge and raised it above his head. Hermione watched as he let it fall with a plip into the water and sink down to the bottom of the enormous bath. "Now you're a mere mortal like the rest of us." 

Draco pushed away from the side and embraced Hermione, his body was hard against hers and though she resisted (slightly) she found herself being pulled below the foamy surface. Drowned by a kiss. What away to celebrate their escape.

~0~

Clambering from the bath weighed down by waterlogged clothes was not easy. Hermione sat on the edge and peeled off her sweater. 

"I'll be dripping all the way back to the common room. What a mess."

"You don't look so bad from where I'm sitting." Draco remarked. He sat on the diving board emptying water out of his shoes but his eyes were fixed on Hermione. "Only I think half of the professors will have heart attacks if you don't cover up that shirt." 

Hermione looked down. It was soaked and sticking to her skin in a most revealing manner. 

"Draco!" she flushed then scowled at Draco. He smirked. 

Hermione took her wand and pointed it at herself. "_Arescere," _she said, and thousands of tiny droplets of water were sucked into the tip of her wand. "Better?" she asked slyly.

"Hmmm." he said, thoughtfully. "I think I preferred it the other way." 

Hermione tutted loudly and continued to dry her clothes. 

"You're leaving?" asked Draco as she laced up her boots.

"I have work to do. I'll be in the library if you need me."

"Stay here." Draco suggested flashing her a winning smile, "We could have a proper swim …"

"I don't think so." Hermione hopped to her feet. "I didn't bring my cossie. Bolt the door after I've gone. Filch is probably still sniffing around."

He chuckled. "Do something for me Hermione, come down to breakfast tomorrow morning." 

What an odd thing for him to suggest. Harry and Ron would be there. Why could he possibly want her there? 

"I don't know, I'm not promising anything."

"I guarantee it you'll enjoy it."

She wasn't sure she liked that idea. Draco's sense of humour varied between shrewdly witty, bitingly sarcastic and down right malicious. Hermione did not understand it.

"No guarantees."

__

~0~

Harry came into the girls dormitory each morning to try and persuade Hermione to come to breakfast. Each morning Hermione made an excuse for eating in her dorm. 

Now was the sixth morning since Christmas and Hermione thought that she heard Harry sigh as the door closed. 

Maybe it _was_ time to stop being an idiot and forget about the last term; _she_ could behave like an adult as long as Ron could. 

Ron had been right, there wasn't much of their friendship left; they'd been growing apart since the beginning of term. Even before they'd returned after the summer holidays Ron had become more distant than ever before, more ready to take offence. It seemed increasingly likely that it wouldn't survive the blows of the future. Without Ron she'd see less of Harry and … 

Hermione decided that she should make the effort for her friends … and Draco wanted her to be at breakfast. It was this thought more than anything that made her pull on her clothes and dash down the stairs after Harry.

As she walked through the double doors into the great hall Hermione took a deep breath. Odd how even few days absence can make something so familiar feel strange, the buzz of chatting students, the mumbling of the professors on the distant high table, the crisp ice blue of the enchanted ceiling. Beautiful, yet chilling. As Hermione passed the Slytherin table. She cast her glance to the left. 

Draco was seated at the far end, alone and aloof in splendid isolation. Nearer to the door were four girls Hermione didn't know. They must be the first years Draco mentioned. A scattering of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs filled the next two tables but none who Hermione knew. As she approached the Gryffindor table Hermione saw Ginny holding court with her first year friends and a short distance away were Harry and Ron. 

Hermione continued round to the far side of the table from where she could see the entire room. From here she could keep an eye on Draco. Harry and Ron stopped talking as she approached.

She gave a little smile. "Do you mind if I join you?" Hermione asked.

"Glad to see you're feeling better!" said Harry. "We've been worried about you."

"Thanks." Said Hermione. Just what had he been telling Ron to account for her absence, "I feel a lot better. How've you been?"

"Great,"

"What about you Ron?" 

"Yeah, great." Ron did not look up.

"I loved the scarf. Thank you." Hermione smiled as pleasantly as possible.

"S'nothing." 

__

This is going well, she thought "Have you two finished your transfiguration assignment yet? I've managed five feet but I'm really stuck for what to write for the last twelve inches," _is it my imagination or are they bored stiff? Why can't they just tell me? Draco would tell me if I were boring him._ Unperturbed, she continued to talk about the work she had been doing over Christmas. She couldn't exactly tell them what else she'd been up to.

A flurry of wings at the south window announced the arrival of the post. One particularly fine tawny owl circled twice around the hall before swooping down toward Hermione. It dropped a wide flat box on her plate and swept away. She looked at Ron and Harry. Their eyes were fixed on the box.

"What's that?" asked Harry.

"No idea," replied Hermione. The box, covered in soft cream coloured leather was tied with a black ribbon. There was no name or card or any indication of who it was from. She picked it up and with fumbling fingers untied the bow. The ribbon fell to the table and she flipped open the hinged lid. "Wha …"

Harry and Ron craned forward to see what was concealed within. 

After staring for at least a minute Hermione drew out a short flat linked chain. Each link was etched with silver scales and the clasp was a tiny snakes head set with flashing green eyes. It's mouth bit down with sharp little teeth on the narrowed tail end of the chain to secure it. Hermione was uncomfortably aware of the boys staring at her.

"I thought you and Krum split up," said Harry, glancing strangely at Ron. Hermione wanted to drape it over her wrist to see what it looked like against her skin. She wanted to tell them that the gift was not from Viktor Krum.

"We still write," said Hermione quietly, she tried not to look over at the Slytherin table where Draco was leaning against the back of his chair leering in their direction. Hermione resisted the temptation to leave as she saw him stand and amble toward the Gryffindor table.

"Well, well, well," said Draco said looming behind Harry and Ron; he placed a hand on the back of either chair and leaned forward. They did not see his wink as he continued. "Mudblood has an admirer! You get that from a Christmas cracker Weasley?"

Hermione could see Ron simmering, any minute now he would start to boil; she didn't know what to say. 

"Shut up Malfoy!" she snapped. This whole thing was unfair, and typical of his warped sense of fun. Did her discomfort really amuse him that much?

"It's not from me, it's from Krum," Ron leapt to his feet knocking Draco aside. "Not that it's any of your business. Why don't you go back to your friends Malfoy," he spat, looking over to the Slytherin table. "Oh yeah, because you don't have any!"

"I'll leave you with _your_ … friends, Weasley," said Draco sweeping the trio with a look of disdain. His eyes lingered on Hermione for a moment and she itched to wipe the smirk right off his face. 

Inside her conscience screamed _You can't live this way forever, sort out your priorities_ but with practise she had learned to ignore her nagging voice of reason. Yet doubts lingered. Soon the holidays would be over and the tower would be crowded once again. How far would she get if she continued to isolate herself from her fellows. She'd contracted an alliance with an enemy and sooner or later they would find out. 

"Thanks Ron," she said as Draco stalked away. She didn't want a repeat of his last performance.

__

~0~

Hermione confronted Draco soon after breakfast; she caught him on his way down the marble staircase. "What do you think you're playing at?" 

He at least had the decency to look slightly abashed. "Don't you like it?"

"It's beautiful, but that doesn't mean you can come and abuse my friends."

"You said yourself they wouldn't understand. I'm just trying to make things easy for you Hermione," Draco's tone became suspicious. "Anyway, _I_ thought you and Krum split up." 

"Easy?" she ignored his last comment. "You call that easy?"

"I thought you handled yourself very well. Actually I …"

"And calling me names!"

"Well, you _are_ a Mudblood, if an extraordinarily gifted and beautiful one," Draco cupped Hermione's cheek in the palm of his hand and tilted her head upwards. "Now, be sensible Hermione. What would they have thought if I hadn't said that? You asked me to keep this secret and I am merely complying with your wishes. If you're ready to tell them then be my guest. If not, I suggest that you continue to play along."

It was no use arguing with him when he was in this sort of mood. He would ruthlessly twist every word she said and convince her that she was wrong in the first place. _Why am I letting him get away with this?_ her voice of reason cried in vain.

She felt his hand slip on to her shoulder.

"Meet me tonight at the bottom of that staircase," he pointed vaguely down the stairs. "The one that leads down to my common room. There's something I want to show you."

"Tonight, I …" began Hermione. 

"Eight o'clock." he kissed her on the forehead and swept down the stairs before she could protest. 

Hermione watched as he disappeared down toward the dungeons. 

She listened until the click of his feet could be heard no more.

__

~Fin~

In** _Part Five _**Hermione faces a choice between love and friendship.

****

Authors Notes

Could this really happen to Hermione? Well, I've seen a friend reduced from a highly independent intelligent young lady to a virtual puppet of he boyfriend within less than a week. There wasn't a thing we could say that would make her see what she was doing, oh well. That was several years ago.

Don't give up on Ron just yet. My other half imposed certain restrictions when I told him I was writing this fic on pain of having my laptop chucked out of the fourth floor window. He said (and I quote) "_You can't do that! Hermione's a sweety! She belongs with …"_

****

Updates

11th December: The usual minor changes. Two missing comma's, a slight rewording of one sentence. There is a stray '/' somewhere but I can't seem to find it. Heck, I need a beta.

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.


	5. Fireworks

**__**

Updates

20th December: If you clicked in for Part Six – It is ready but I spotted a continuity error. I will amend and re-post tonight. 

**__**

Transi de Froid

By **Incitata**

Part Five: Fireworks

"There are always two choices. Two paths to take. 

One is easy. And its only reward is that it's easy."

Anon

__

~0~

High in the Gryffindor tower Hermione Granger sat alone. She sat as she had done for several hours hunched up on the plush velvet window seat, back against the bevelled frame, one cheek flat against a chilled pane of glass. One leg was drawn up against her chest and the other dangled down to the floor. 

Outside a hostile wind howled around the walls of the tower. It rattled the windows, searching for a breach in the ancient defences of the castle. Hermione's eyes strayed to the black moonless sky; blacker, scudding clouds skimmed the dark line of the forbidden forest which marked the horizon. The earliest stars were just visible above. 

Hermione did not believe that there were answers in the stars yet for once her own reason was failing her. Cold logic could provide no answer. 

She feared that she was falling in love.

"I'll stay here," she said, to Crookshanks curled in front of the fire. The large orange cat did not stir but continued to purr contentedly in his sleep. Hermione didn't mind, as long as she was talking to someone (even a sleeping cat) she didn't feel she was going totally mad. "I'll lock my door and not go out tonight. In case I say something that I can't take back." 

Her mind, confused with fears and dreams of conflict, Hermione drifted into a shallow sleep.

A loud crack shattered the peace of sleep. Hermione jumped, knocking her head on the window and Crookshanks arched and hissed like only a surprised semi-Kneazle can. Hermione leapt to her feet feeling suddenly the stiffness in her limbs. What the …

"Come missy," squeaked a familiar voice from behind the hangings of Hermione's four poster bed. Hermione tugged aside the curtain and found a House Elf gabbling plaintively from beneath a folded paper hat. 

The go between.

"Missy 'mione will be late," said the Elf. Despite his self proclaimed loathing of House Elves Draco still seemed happy to use them whenever it suited him. Willing and able to go places they could not the creature made the perfect go between yet Hermione was still troubled by Draco's attitude. The idea that he might, in her absence give the Elf a hefty kick caused Hermione a great deal of anguish; nor was she entirely comfortable with the idea of servants, particularly not ones she still thought were unfairly enslaved. Hermione pulled a hand through her tangled hair and stifled a yawn. 

"Nearly eight," continued the Elf in it's curious broken english, "Malfoy sir summon Whimsy and say, go and get missy 'mione and he say if you not come he boil Whimsy's head." The elf stared up at Hermione with huge questioning eyes. "Would he missy 'mione, boil Whimsy's head?" 

Hermione did not have an answer to that. Draco had promised that he wouldn't lay a finger on the elf but now she wasn't so sure. "Tell Draco I'll be there," said Hermione, just in case. "And tell him that … Oh, just tell him I'll be there."

~0~

Still not entirely ready to watch a new year begin Hermione left her dormitory. She had gone but two steps when she turned back. She crossed to her bedside table and picked up the sliver of silver that lay there. It slid through her fingers but she forced the tiny snake into place. It's weight felt good. 

Satisfied that she had done this much Hermione grabbed her cloak from the back of the door and made her way down to the common room. Her head was swirling with thoughts. Why did she have to be stuck with the most infuriating friends on the planet? Why did she have to like someone that those friends considered to be an enemy?

Heavy curtains were drawn across the windows to muffle the night and to keep in the heat from the blazing fire. Someone had pulled a battered old sofa in front of the fire and Hermione saw that Ron and Ginny sat at either end. Two armies faced off before battle on a chequered field between them. 

"Hi Hermione," said Ginny with a wave. "You coming to the fireworks tonight? Hagrids doing a display in the courtyard."

"Oh, maybe," replied Hermione, unable to ignore them she tried to look as though she wasn't in a hurry. Hermione wandered over and perched on the back of the couch. "I have a paper to write. I'll probably be stuck in here all night finishing it."

"In the holidays? What fun!" Ron muttered. "Excuse me if I don't join you." 

"Well, it's a clear night," said Ginny "And if the wind dies down the display should be magnificent. And Ron would like you to come, wouldn't you Ron? I …" Ginny continued to prattle on.

Hermione could see that Ginny didn't believe her. Ron's sister had been a lot more distant recently. Why did bloody Weasley's have to go passing judgement without knowing any of the facts. Hermione recalled her fourth year when Mrs Weasley had decided to condemn her for two timing Harry (which was not true). They're all the same, but they never tell you openly what they think. 

Ron had hardly raised his eyes from the chessboard. Hermione could see that every piece but one was in its place. She saw it held loosely between Ron's fingers and it seemed to be drawing most of his attention. A red knight. 

"… anyway, even if you can't get there I'm sure you'll see it from the windows." 

"You seen Harry?" asked Ron, when Ginny eventually stopped talking long enough to take a breath.

"I assumed he'd be with you," said Hermione, she felt awkward. She shifted the cloak that hung over her arm checking carefully to straighten out the wrinkles. It was a convenient way of avoiding Ron's eye. 

"Where are you going?"

"The Owlery," lied Hermione. Now wasn't the time for truth, let him assume that she was writing to thank Viktor. "I thought it would be cold up there hence the cloak!" _Stop it Hermione_, she told herself, _Isn't that what liars do? Embroider their stories until they forget quite what is true_. 

Truth was she had no idea where she was going. 

As a signal that she was leaving Hermione stood. She wrapped her cloak round her shoulders exposing a flash of silver at her wrist.

"You wearing that?" asked Ron glaring at the little snake coiled beneath her sleeve. 

"I seem to be." Hermione replied, irritated. _I'm not accountable to him_. She reminded herself angrily. "I might see you later at the fireworks."

"Can I see?" chirped Ginny, craning over the back of the sofa. "Is it really from Viktor?"

"Sure," said Hermione, sounding bored. _Since when have you been on first name terms with him?_ Hermione wanted to scream. Instead she dutifully extended her arm so that Ron's sister could see. 

"It's a bit … slytherinny isn't it?" Ginny gave Ron a very strange look. 

__

You're too bloody sharp for your own good, thought Hermione as she pulled down her sleeve and forced a tight lipped smile. "Well, Viktor _is_ a bit slytherinny isn't he Ginny."

"I suppose. Hey, if you're going to the Owlery, can you send something home for me?" Ginny was already on her feet.

"I don't really think I …" Hermione protested, heading toward the portrait hole.

"I'll only be a minute," said Ginny disappearing up the spiral staircase that led to her dormitory.

Hermione was left alone with Ron. And now that she was wearing her cloak she was beginning to feel hot and uncomfortable. Once she would have asked what was bothering him, but now there wasn't anything she could think of that would break their uneasy silence. The fire crackled as a log slipped down the grate sending a spray of sparks up the chimney. Maybe if she'd worn his scarf too, maybe then Ron wouldn't be looking so sullen.

Ginny burst back into the room herding her first years before her. Hermione couldn't help thinking that she looked rather like a fussy hen, rather like her mother actually. Apart from the growing physical resemblance they had the same irritating habit of jumping to conclusions. 

Ginny waved an envelope at Hermione. "It's for Mum," she said, "Just use one of the school owls. Pig still hasn't recovered from christmas. We sent him home and George fed him christmas cake soaked in brandy."

"No problem." Hermione could hardly refuse, _Bitch_. She took the envelope and stuffed it in her bag. She made for the door before Ginny delayed her any longer. "I'll see you later," Hermione called, she glanced back over her shoulder. Brother and sister were already deep in hushed conversation.

"Have a good night," said the Fat Lady as Hermione stepped into the hallway. "My dear, you've lost your badge." 

"Oh!" Hermione raised her hand to her breast where her prefect badge was usually prominently displayed. "I decided not to wear it tonight," Something else that wasn't quite true. "Just for a change." As far as Hermione knew her badge was still at the bottom of the bathtub. Draco had flatly refused to dive in and retrieve it for her so she had left it there.

"Very well dear," said the Fat Lady as she settled herself down for a raucous New Year with her friend Violet and a bottle of Ogden's.

Hermione waved and set off for her rendezvous. She was going to be late, especially now that she had to go to the Owlery first. Her first thought was to send the letter at another time but she was betting that Ginny would ask her mother when she received it. _Damn_. 

Hermione was half way to the Owlery when she stopped, "No!" she said determinedly. "No, I'm not going to do it. The whole bloody Weasley clan can scowl and judge all they like but I am not sending it. I have plans, they can wait."

So, a little later than planned, Hermione trotted down the staircase to the dungeons.

"You're late," said a voice, accusing and cold. Hermione turned and peered through the semi darkness to see Draco leaning against a wall, his face bore the most impatient expression she had ever seen. "I nearly went without you." 

"Well I'm here now," snapped Hermione; she was still rattled by her run in with Ginny. "Where are we going?"

"It's a secret." Draco took her hand, "Now follow me." 

"Why," demanded Hermione as they set off, " Did you tell Whimsy you'd boil her head if I didn't come?"

"Thought you might be having second thoughts," he grinned nastily and continued to walk at a brisk pace. "Just a little motivation for you!"

"You mustn't make idle threats like that," said Hermione, stopping dead. She was ready to refuse to walk any further until he stopped and listened. "Poor little thing was scared!"

"We keep having this discussion, Hermione," said Draco, frustration darkened his brow. "You _think_ House Elves are cute, helpful little creatures, generally exploited by their masters. I _know _otherwise. I don't want to talk about this any more," he continued adding a final, "End of discussion!" before walking on.

Hermione glared at his back then said very determinedly, "It's not the end of the discussion, Draco," Hermione felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, she was feeling belligerent. "You can't tell me what I can or cannot talk about."

"Hermione," said Draco, walking back toward her.

"What?" Hermione felt his hands cool against her hot cheeks, his fingers searching their way through her hair. _Not fair! _She was annoyed with the Weasleys and wanted to take it out on someone but Draco didn't seem to be playing her game.

"Shut up!" he whispered, pulling her to him and settling the argument with his kiss. "Now lets go." 

Hermione made a mental note to get him back for that later.

Draco led her out into the grounds. Hermione wrapped her cloak tight around her shoulders for the wind was as vicious down here as it had been at the top of the Gryffindor tower. It carried from the north the promise of more snow before dawn. 

They crept round the edge of the castle, crossed the churned crunchy snow on the lawn and skirted the edge of the forbidden forest. Each time Hermione asked "Where?" Draco simply smiled and kept his silence. They crossed the road that led down to the great boar guarded gates and pushed through the undergrowth at the other side. 

"Careful here," said Draco, raising a warning hand. He shone his wand through the scrub and revealed a drop of a hundred feet or more. He'd brought her to the top of the cliffs. "It may be a bit slippy. It's just an animal track but it's easy enough. Just follow me."

Hermione saw a pathway, maybe ten inches wide that led out round the cliff face. Tufts of frosted grass that clung to the edges were just visible in the pale wandlight. To her left was the sky and to her right the rugged wall of the great cliff that bore Hogwarts school high above the village of Hogsmeade. 

"Give me your hand," said Draco. Thinking that this may well be the last thing she ever did, Hermione gripped his hand tightly and took her first step on the ridge. "Relax," said Draco giving her had a reassuring squeeze. "If you fall you'll land in the lake."

That of course is exactly what Hermione was trying to forget; even worse the sharp rocks below. The sound of the lake agitated by the wind beating those rocks pounded in her ears. Hermione stayed as close to the cliff face as she possibly could counting every breath, and every moment along the icy path which rose gradually and grew narrower and narrower with each hesitant step. 

She was aware of nothing but the cruel cold that scoured her cheeks and the incessant churning of the lake below. 

__

I'm squid food, she thought, unable to work out why Draco had decided to give her a guided tour of hell. 

Hermione's whole body tensed as a gust threatened to peel them both off the cliff face. The fingers of her free hand dug into the rock desperately searching for a hold. Her other hand crushed Draco's.

"Nearly there," his voice encouraged, cutting through the screaming of the wind and the flapping of their cloaks, as loud as unfurled sails in a storm. 

Then suddenly, he was gone.

"DRACO," she yelled, deafened by the wind. Her voice raised an octave. Tendrils of gale blown ivy struck her face and she clung with one hand to the cliff, back flat against the rock. Her other hand held only the memory of warmth where his fingers had been torn from hers. 

"DRACO," she screamed forcing down a sob, but the wind forced tears from her eyes masked only by the darkness. Hermione was close to panic; she screwed her eyes tight closed and clutched at the cliff behind her, cold and unyielding, no haven there. She inched blindly on along the path and felt her foot slip, pebbles dashing down the side of the cliff. She froze. _No, I can't do it, I_ _Can't go on, can't go back. Oh, my …_

A hand, thin and hard scraped across her face trapping her scream inside her mouth, another arm tight around her waist pulled her back into the shadows.

__

"Hermione," 

Arms were around her, her head clutched to his chest, a warm familiar scent. She felt a heartbeat.

__

"Hermione," 

She slumped to the floor and he followed, cradling her trembling body against his. She heard her name.

"Hermione, calm down. I'm sorry." 

A hand stroked her hair and her whole body was swamped in a thick dark cloak. 

__

"LOOK AT ME," something warm on her cheeks making her open her eyes. Hermione blinked and stared into a pair of pale grey eyes, very close. Strange because they lacked their usual chill. These eyes showed something she'd never expected from Draco; concern. 

"It's alright Hermione, you're safe. Breath now, slowly."

"I thought you'd …" she couldn't stop her tears.

"Shhh. Don't speak, not yet." Hermione felt Draco's arms tighten round her. He held her there muttering soft words in her ear until her sobs subsided.

"I shouldn't have done that," Draco said eventually as he brushed away a last tear with his thumb. "I didn't think you'd be so afraid."

Still too shocked to yell at him for nearly scaring her to death, Hermione looked around. She knelt on the dry sandy floor of a small cave. A curtain of trailing ivy at the mouth protected the interior from the weather and the rugged walls were visible in the dim light of Draco's fallen wand. Apart from that there was nothing there.

"How did you find this place?" she asked.

Hermione watched Draco's smile flicker as he composed his reply. She was certain it wasn't spontaneous. 

"Actually it found me," he said lightly, as though stumbling across comfy caves on inhospitable cliffs was the sort of thing that happened every day. "I just happened to be walking here last year when the results of our NEWTs came out; I came to a point where there was nowhere left to turn. There I was stuck, being slowly cooked by the blazing sunlight...and there it was!" 

Something bothered Hermione. What in Merlin's name he was doing walking along a narrow cliff path with a sheer drop of several hundred feet below in the first place? Thinking it might be a little tactless to raise this issue she stored it away, something to ask another time.

"…I just sort of fell back and there it was! I was lying in a puddle of warm sand." Draco paused and gave Hermione an inscrutable smile. "I thought you'd like it. Anyone who spends as long in a library as you must often feel the need for solitude. One way in and one way out; quality alone time, guaranteed. Though I admit, I prefer to use a broom to get here," he added with the soft gurgling chuckle that always made Hermione think of champagne.

"Come with me," Draco helped Hermione to her feet and she followed him mutely over to the mouth of the cave; she hung back from the edge, reluctant to go any nearer. He pulled back the trailing ivy and wrapped his other arm around Hermione's shoulder. "The view is actually quite good, when you're not terrified of falling that is. Those lights over there are the station and there's Hogsmeade in the distance," he turned his head and looked down at Hermione, "You should come up here and watch the dawn." 

That new light in his eyes that she'd noted earlier was still there, Hermione thought that she liked it.

__

A nice warm sandy cave, very primitive, Hermione thought wryly, _Perhaps after scaring me half to death he's going to get a woolly mammoth to attack us next._

Suddenly a glow blazed behind them and Hermione turned. The cave was flooded with candlelight and a large table occupied the centre of the cave, a chair at either end. Beyond it standing on an upturned crate stood Whimsy, ears flapping through her folded paper hat. The Elf directed a look of sheer loathing at Draco. Hermione noticed that this look quickly became neutral when he turned round.

"That'll be dinner," said Draco. "That Elf seems to like you, Hermione. It arranged for this to be brought here, didn't want to help _me_ but when I said it was for you it tripped over itself to accommodate…" 

__

Probably because you keep calling her it, Hermione thought.

"… You missed christmas lunch and I think that was partly my fault so I thought we might celebrate, it's only a few days late. I gave you your gift this morning."

Hermione's hand instinctively went to the little silver snake when he mentioned it and his narrow smile told her that he understood. Really she didn't know what to say, it was all so … opulent.

Draco moved behind her and removed her cloak from her shoulders. He slung it over his shoulder and guided Hermione to a chair which he drew back for her. He threw their cloaks at the House Elf before taking his own seat. 

"I sent home for this," Draco produced a bottle which he proceeded to open with a satisfying pop. He poured the bubbling liquid into two tall glasses. "My father is going to be livid when he finds I've been raiding his cellars but right now he isn't there so there's nothing the old bastard can do about it."

Hermione recognised champagne when she saw it though the label was unfamiliar, _Krug 1974, no Mumm here!_. "I thought you people despised Muggles and all things to do with Muggles …"

"Well, why try to improve perfection. Come, Hermione, you accept that my family are bigoted, correct?"

She nodded.

"Well then," he said, that laugh again. "Is it really a surprise that we're hypocrites too?"

Once, Hermione would have thought Draco incapable of self mockery. True he would never countenance anyone else saying such a thing about his family but then he didn't apply the same rules to himself as everyone else. Her eyes followed his hand as he slid the glass toward her. 

"I think it's against school rules, Draco," she said. Draco got to his feet and walked round the table. He bent close.

"So give me detention!" he said wrapping her fingers round the stem of her glass. "Now, do I have to force you to drink it?" With one arm either side of her he trapped her hand against the cold glass holding both between his, there wasn't much Hermione could do as he raised the glass to her lips. "To hypocrisy and indulgence. _Ecce pactum. Id cape aut id relinque_."

Hermione wasn't sure what to say to that. Not that she could speak because he held the glass to her lips until she drank from it.

"It's a family motto," Draco explained, as he returned to his seat. "We're not big on compromise!"

"You do surprise me!" really Hermione had no idea what he was going to come up with next. Her friends might hate him but at least he wasn't boring and predictable like Ron.

"Can I ask you something Hermione?" Draco asked as Whimsy whisked the remains of their first course back up to the castle. He leaned on one elbow, his fingers twirling the stem of his glass round and round. Hermione nodded, she had the feeling that he'd been avoiding saying something, now the elf was gone maybe he'd get to the point.

"You seem to have a taste for … how can I put it? Famous men … fast men," Draco grinned. "And they seem to have a taste for you, Potter, Krum … myself. Maybe you like seekers?"

"There's never been anything between me and Harry," said Hermione. "We're friends, always have been … nothing more." She wanted to say always will be but she no longer knew that for certain.

"If you say so," Draco clearly didn't believe her, "Now Krum I can understand, famous Quidditch star, mysterious foreigner. But why does Weasley think you're still seeing him?" 

"Maybe he finds the idea of Viktor easier to cope with than the idea of you," Hermione suddenly became very interested in the hypnotic stream of bubbles that hissed and fizzed up her glass. She didn't like this line of questioning. "I don't see that it's a problem. If he wants to delude himself he can. I don't really think it's any of your business …" 

Hermione knew instantly that she had said something wrong. Draco slammed his hand flat on the table. Hermione watched as the plates and glasses jumped and rattled. Until that moment she hadn't known he was serious. 

"Then, I know where _I _stand," Draco hissed. Hermione regarded him from across the table rather as a tired butterfly regards a lepidopterist with a spare pin. "How nice of you to tell me," she could see that he was struggling for control. His fist clenched squeezing every drop of blood out of his hand. Slowly the anger that flared so suddenly in his eyes was covered, frozen beneath glacier grey. "Happy-New-Year!"

Hermione was left with the horrible feeling that Draco would dearly like to know what it would feel like if he slammed that fist straight into her stomach. 

It was too much, Hermione could quite do without the insecure and the jealous; she was still on edge and in no mood to let this lie.

"Oh, forgive me please! I forgot our parents got together in the hour of our births and pledged us to one another. How _ever_ could I have forgotten that?," said Hermione, tongue dripping a searing mix of sarcasm and vitriol. "Obviously someone else has the Malfoy family braincell this week because you are acting like a bloody idiot! Don't sit there looking at me like I cancelled Christmas, that was last week when _you_ started sniffing round me. I didn't ask you to ruin my holidays. No, you just swaggered in without a thought of what would happen next. Do you really think this is going to last? Look at us Draco, forget your family, lets not even bring them into it. What about your friends?"

"_Your_ friends … say what you mean Hermione," said Draco, sharply, not a ripple of feeling marred his face. "Nice to see that deep down you really have little faith in their ability to forgive you or even to understand you."

"Alright, my friends. No, I don't think they'll understand, I don't understand! But don't try and turn this all on me. It won't work, not this time! Your friends hate me, actually I always thought you hated me."

"I hate you only because you rate the friendship of Harry bloody Potter above my own,"

"So now you hate me, a few seconds ago you were pissed off because you thought I was still seeing Viktor Krum. Make up your mind! What do you expect me to do? Roll over and beg you to stay just because you bring me to your weird little love nest ... I can't be bought Draco, I don't care how extravagant you are, what gifts you can give me." Hermione ripped the little snake off her wrist and threw it to the floor, her chair fell into the sand with a soft thwump. "People like Pansy might be impressed with this sort of thing but I'm not … save it for her, I'm sure she can't wait to come back here!" 

Hermione stormed over to the mouth of the cave, the stars were brighter now but still they held no solution.

"I've never brought anyone else here," Draco said quietly. Hermione turned. His gaze focussed on a depression in the sandy floor from which a tiny green eye winked. He raised his head and looked up at Hermione, "What _do_ you want, Hermione?" he asked, his voice tired and barely above a whisper. "What can I do …?" 

"I don't want anything _from_ you, Draco. Why can't you understand that? I just don't want to be some hidden thing that you won't acknowledge, all this sneaking around is killing me, these twisted games… Just stop it! If you love me tell me, and hang the consequences, if not, just stop!"

__

~Fin~

In** _Part Six: After Midnight _**actually I'm not giving anything away this time:)

****

Authors Notes

Extra special thanks to Sanna and Squin who have been with me all the way so far. A huge glass of Bolly and a party hat to the rest of you!

__

Ecce pactum. Id cape aut id relinque: I've been looking for an excuse to use that phrase. The translation is … available in Henry Beards stonking book _Latin for All Occasions (Angus & Robertson 1991)_. Translations on request.

I'm so sorry for leaving a cliff-hanger … it just seemed appropriate. If I have time there'll be one more chapter before I bugger off to France for Christmas to break limbs on the slopes.

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.


	6. After Midnight

**__**

Transi de Froid

By **Incitata**

Part Six: After Midnight

"Parallax: 1.An apparent change in the position of an object from a change in the position of the observer."

Collins English Dictionary

~0~

****

Authors Note

I've been inside Hermione's head for far too long. I have a thousand Draco thoughts trying to express themselves through her eyes. The scene in the cave resumes from Draco's PoV. I will return to Hermione's PoV as soon I have expunged this particular Malfoy from my brain (just be thankful it's not the luscious Lucius, it usually takes me weeks to get rid of him).

~0~

A mismatched crowd of students and teachers gathered in the grounds of the school near Hagrids hut. They clustered around a large brazier absorbing the pleasant warmth that rose from the pale green flames that licked and crackled through holes in the sides, waiting patiently while Hagrid made last minute preparations for the display. Ron and Harry stood a little way off, not close enough to the heat for Ron's liking.

Ron dug his hands deeper into his pockets. "She's not coming," he moaned glancing once again toward the school. 

"That's getting really boring, Ron," said Harry. "Just go and find her."

"Look what happened last time I tried that," Ron complained kicking snow off the toes of his shoes. "Did you hear what Ginny heard?"

"Yeah, I heard and I still think it's a load of rubbish," said Harry, Ron glared at his friend. "Come off it Ron, she'd have to be off her head, or do you think he's using Unforgivables on her?" 

"That's not funny, Harry …"

"Or drugged her?" Harry teased. " Yeah, that's it. Malfoy got Snape to whip up a potion and …"

"Harry," Ron warned, he really wasn't amused to find his best friend saying all the things he feared the most. There was no way of knowing without asking Hermione. Right now Ron could hardly bear to look at Hermione, just in case he said something that he might regret. Yet he wanted to talk to her and to find out what was going on. If she needed to be rescued he wanted to be the one to do it.

"Shut up, Harry!" Ron snapped. Clearly he didn't see how serious this was (of course it may have been that Harry thought the whole idea was so ludicrous that it could be nothing but one big joke), there was no malicious intent but Ron didn't see that. 

Harry didn't understand, he had Cho; if he'd asked Hermione Harry could probably have had her too. But he was standing there looking gormless and cracking lame jokes at Hermione's expense. Ron might be angry at Hermione but that didn't change the way he felt; he would still defend her, against anyone.

"I was joking Ron," Harry protested. Ron stared for a moment at the bewildered looking Harry then stormed away into the night muttering foul words beneath his breath. 

He reached the cover of the trees as the first jet of stardust streamed into the air with a screech and burst into a vast umbrella of pink and blue.

~0~

"If you love me tell me, and hang the consequences, if not, just stop!" 

A flash of blue turned her hair for just one second into a bright halo but Hermione's words rang clear above the cracks and howls of fireworks that echoed across the lake. 

An ultimatum. Surely she hadn't meant to say that. There were certain rules that served Draco well in arguments, appear angry if necessary but never lose your temper, never declare love or hate and never issue an ultimatum. But there it was.

__

"If you love me tell me, and hang the consequences, if not, just stop!" 

A slow thin smile spread across Draco's face. "What precisely do you expect me to say?" he didn't take his eyes off her as beneath the passive exterior his mind worked feverishly to find the right words. He continued in the same low tone that he knew she couldn't resist. "How could I ever say I loved you, Hermione?" he lowered his gaze to where his hand lay, flat on the crisp white table cloth. 

Draco remembered well her words given in anger out by the lake on the morning after. One minute then would have saved her all this trouble. One minute would have resolved everything and they would not be in this mess; he on the verge of betraying his family and she on the verge of betraying her friends. If she had listened to him for just one minute she would have understood it all when in an uncharacteristic moment of mercy he attempted to end the charade. But she wouldn't listen, even after that impulsive kiss. It was always going to lead here.

__

"I don't love you Draco, I never will."

Very slowly Draco stood; he approached Hermione with predatory grace. He had her mute attention, rabbit eyes caught in the bright glare of his own. It may have been entirely his imagination but when Hermione was angry tiny orange flecks seemed to glow through the warm brown of her eyes. He liked to provoke her just to see those sparks of indignant rage flare and fade. She was angry now.

"You don't love me, you said so yourself." Draco stopped, just inches in front of her. Her eyes betrayed her passion, it was there almost equal to his own but badly controlled and unwanted. Perhaps, when that feeling was freed and consumed, perhaps then she would not love him quite as much. 

In one easy fluid movement Draco fell to his knees. He grasped her hands and gazed up at her in apparent adoration. "Am I to lay myself at your feet and beg for something that you claim will never be?"

"I'm being serious, Draco," spat Hermione. Her hair fell about her face as she looked down. Draco rather thought that he liked it that way. "I don't know what you're trying to do to me but I'm not playing anymore. Stop being so bloody sarcastic and say what you mean. I love you Draco though it pains me to say it. No more lies, no more games. I love you." 

His gaze did not waver. "And I you, my dear." He drew her down, forcing her to her knees, pulling her into a long deep kiss. "And I you." 

~0~

"It won't be easy," said Draco eventually. He lay on his back, legs crossed at the ankles, hands behind his head. Hermione lay against him with her head on his chest, the weight was pleasant. Her fingers traced little patterns in the fabric of his shirt occasionally dipping in between the buttons making his breath catch and his skin quiver. "I can't imagine that Weasley will take this very well, or Potter for that matter," he chuckled, shifting one hand to stroke her hair. He turned his thoughts to his own friends. "I can see Pansy's face right now. What a picture! By the way you're right about her. Absolute gold digger; old name but the family hasn't got a bean.

"You might still back out you know," Draco continued, wishing wholheartedly that she would, "I'll understand. Give me a week and I'll hate you for doing so, or we could just keep it a secret."

"No," said Hermione, firmly. "I'm not going to sneak round anymore. They'll understand, they have to."

"I'm flattered," said Draco pulling Hermione round so that she lay on top of him. "That's a lot to risk on _me_."

"And what are _you_ risking?" asked Hermione.

Draco smiled at that and took a deep breath. "Let me see, I suspect I'll be disinherited in a flash! Of course the estate's entailed, I'll get the house eventually and Mother has some private money that I'm sure she'll send my way. Maybe the old man could do us a favour and drop dead all of a sudden."

"Draco!" said Hermione, shocked, "Don't say things like that!"

"You _have_ met my father haven't you?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "About my height, eyes like diamonds but a little harder? Rumoured to maintain some rather fundamental views about Mud … people like you."

"But he's your father! Surely you love him."

"Now you're confusing love and respect. There's an enormous difference. He's an old bastard, I don't have a problem with that. I won't hear a word said against him but I have no illusions about him. Something to bear in mind Hermione, lie all you want, to anyone you wish but never delude yourself, always remember what you are and what other people are."

"I don't plan to take up wholesale lying any time soon."

__

You already have, thought Draco, _much more than you know_. But he didn't say it. No point in ruining the atmosphere, sooner or later Hermione would accept what she was becoming and when she did, then she would be perfect.

"As you wish," Draco yawned, "Just make sure you never, never lie to me," he added for good measure.

"Why would I?" she asked. Draco merely smiled a very cold smile and closed his eyes.

"It's late," he said, "We should return to the castle … unless you want to stay here all night."

"I think I'd rather stay here forever than go back along that cliff."

Draco raised himself on his elbows. "Get up and I'll take us back another way."

Hermione looked puzzled. She got to her feet and began to brush sand off her clothes. "You're not old enough to apparate and anyway, you can't app…"

"Shh!" Draco placed a finger over her lips. "I know all that! I find it very annoying when you sound like a rule book, please don't do it anymore," he said tersely as he found his wand. 

"_Accio_," he said lazily, "I _know_ Potter didn't learn that one by himself." He smirked at Hermione's expression then wandered over to the table. He stooped to scrape something off the floor which he stuffed in a pocket. He felt the half full bottle; "Still cold," he muttered and refilled their glasses; he brought them back to the mouth of the cave where Hermione stood. The air smelled of sulphur and octarine as the last of the fireworks zoomed up into the sky

Draco pressed one glass into Hermione's hand and wrapped his arm about her waist. "Happy New Year Hermione."

As their glasses clinked the sky exploded with a thousand silver stars that crackled slowly down to earth.

~0~

Ron didn't know why he had come here. It was cold and dark. Maybe he was here because it was where he and Hermione had fallen out. He bent down and gathered handfuls of snow, imagining it was the head of Draco Malfoy that he compacted between his hands. With a roar he flung it at the statue of a lady in a tall hat that stood on a pedestal. He rather wished he could have knocked her hat off.

He bent down to gather more ammo for a second shot. Not hearing the strange sound like waves lapping over a pebbly shore that filled the clearing. Ron straightened and found himself looking into the eyes of that lady, they were white and marble but curiously expressive; he could tell immediately that she didn't appreciate having snowballs pelted at her head. The snow that should have become a fresh weapon fell through his fingers to the ground.

"Well, young sir?" she demanded, "Prithee tell why thou dost accost me."

"I, dududududu," Ron mumbled, he didn't know the statues could move, why did that surprise him.

"Speak clearly young varlet!"

"I didn't think …"

"That is clear," Lady Murgatroyd (for it was she) leaned forward. Ron wondered what she could see with those blank eyes. They seemed to scrutinise him. "Why 'tis the Red Knight." Lady Murgatroyd straightened and brushed the snow from her hat. Ron didn't like the way she continued to glare at him. "Methinks thy Lady is right to spurn thee if this be how thee greets her."

"You're mad," muttered Ron under his breath. He'd heard the voice before like a slab of marble being dragged over gravel. Maybe he was the one going mad. "I don't have a lady," he sighed, "If I had a lady I wouldn't be here in the middle of the night. I don't know where she is …"

"Seekest thou not the heart of the maiden Hermione?" Ron may have imagined it but he thought the statues voice had warmed a little. "We see much in these places where lovers tryst, but rarely do we speak. Sir Knight, I see that you are good but a more powerful Knight also seeks the hand of the Lady; would you fight for her honour without question though all seems lost?"

__

Why am I standing here talking to a statue? Ron asked himself_, how on earth does she know all this anyway? _His mind boggled.

"What do you know about Hermione?" he asked sharply.

"Only that one will win her. The Red Knight and the White Knight, both strong and handsome. Ahh, how I wish I could see the battle." Her hands were clasped to her bosom and she had adopted an expression of wistful longing. Ron felt nauseous.

"Thanks, I think." Ron was certain that he hadn't misunderstood her meaning. White Knight, there was only one person that statue could mean. "You idiot Hermione! How could you be so bloody stupid." Ron didn't know what he was going to do but he knew that he was going to do something. 

He left the statue gazing into the night and ran back towards Hagrids hut. As he reached Harry the sky exploded with a thousand silver stars that crackled slowly down to earth.

"Harry," he gasped, "Hermione! I'll tell you later"

"You missed the display."

"I know, we've got to talk to Hermione, right now." Ron tugged at Harry's sleeve and dragged him until he followed willingly. The boys set off at a sprint.

"What is it Ron?" Harry asked again. "Is she in trouble?"

"No time," Ron said determinedly and continued running until they reached the Gryffindor common room.

~0~

A hiss announced it's arrival. Draco was ready for it and in seconds his broom was held firmly in his hand. 

"Can I give you a lift back to your tower?" Draco asked with a smirk. Hermione shook her head. "It's either that or you use the path, your choice."

"I'll take the lift, said Hermione. Draco watched as Hermione looked back at the cave. "Shouldn't we tidy up or something?"

"Elf'll do it," without wasting any more time Draco mounted his broom. "Come on then!" he chided urging the reluctant Hermione to get on behind him.

As soon as she was settle with hands clutched tightly around his waist Draco kicked off and swooped down over the lake. He knew Hermione wasn't good at flying and couldn't resist the temptation to show off. Her grip tightened.

"Relax," he turned his head back and smiled.

"Watch where you're going!" squealed Hermione.

"Backseat driver!" he tutted. "I know what I'm doing." 

Against the rim of the forest he could see a crowd of people round a fire, two quickly moving figures caught his eye. He recognised them even from this distance. His father may have bought him a place on the Slytherin quidditch team but it was his own skill that kept him there. He didn't mention what he had seen to Hermione but pushed the broom just a little harder.

"Which tower?" he asked, unconcerned. "Point it out!"

Hermione extended an arm over his shoulder and indicated a tall tower. Draco nodded and swung in a great arc round the far side before she had a chance to regain her grip. The fingers of her other hand dug into his chest, the sensation was not unpleasant. Draco chuckled.

"You're a very nervous passenger," he remarked over his shoulder, "Just relax! Now tell me which window you want."

"That one, near the top." Draco slowed the broom and flew in close to the window indicated. He placed his foot against the wall to steady the broom which yawed a little in the wind. A simple charm to open the window and rather awkwardly Draco helped Hermione inside. He peered in to the dormitory shaking his head at the profusion of red velvet and dark wood. While her back was turned he reached in his pocket and placed something on the cushion of the window seat.

"Now I know where you live," said Draco as Hermione turned back to face the window. He reached in and caught her hand. "Take care my dear," he said raising it to his lips. "Until tomorrow, I love you." 

Without waiting for a response he pushed against the tower wall and spiralled into the air. In truth Draco didn't remember another time when he'd said those words and meant them.

~0~

Still breathless, Hermione looked at the space where he'd been, she could still feel his lips on her hand. Her eyes were drawn to the cushion on which lay the little silver snake he'd given her. As she reached for it, someone hammered on her door. Quickly she shut the window. 

"Come in," she called as she dragged off her cloak and stuffed it under the bed.

Red faced and gasping for breath Ron and Harry tumbled into the room. 

"Is it true?" cried Ron, "Hermione, is it true?"

__

~Fin~

In** _Part Seven: Vengeance _**…. a new term and a new year. Nasty surprises all round.

****

Authors Notes

Octarine: a Pratchetism that sneaked in, first mentioned in _The Colour of Magic_, if I recall correctly.

The shortest chapter yet. I'm not sure I liked this one. I find Ron and Harry extraordinarily difficult to write.

I'm away until after the New Year so Merry Crimble everybody. Please leave a note if you'd like me to e-mail you when the next part is out. I've a feeling this may go on for some time; and remember, a long fic is for life, not just for Christmas. Seasonal reviews to y'all!

****

Updates

3rd January 2002: Thanks everyone for your kind beta-ing offers. Chapter seven is nearly ready.

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.


	7. Vengeance

**__**

Transi de Froid

By **Incitata**

Part Seven: Vengeance

'Nos amis, les ennemis'

(Our friends, the enemy)

'L'opinion de ces demoiselles' in Chansons de De Beranger (1832).

Pierre-Jean de Beranger.

~0~

****

After twice circling the Gryffindor tower, Draco saw that the shaft of light that shone from Hermione's window had narrowed to a crack. He pulled up the nose of his broom and rose above the snow-covered tiles and toothy parapets of Hogwarts. Rising higher, a turn to the North, then fast into an exhilarating descent. The trees, the castle and the night blurred into a single streak of dark as the wind tore at Draco's hair and made his cloak grab at his ankles.

Softly, Draco landed near the broomshed. His breath was heavy but the sting of the cold air on his warm throat did not bother him; his thoughts were elsewhere. Quickly Draco stored his ageing Nimbus 2001 in the rack but he lingered, eyes scanning the neat rows of broomsticks. They were all here, from warped and cracked Cleensweep Threes, through to the latest Firebolt X-Scream, sleek and polished. Draco thought that he might ask his father for one, it would certainly knock spots off anyone else's. 

He paced slowly down the aisle thinking of a particular 'anyone else'. As he trailed his hand idly over the tail twigs some of the brooms quivered. Those that trembled as his fingers came near, he knew were charmed to stop less scrupulous students from nobbling a member of a house team. He reached a very familiar Firebolt that shuddered though he stood almost a foot away. Draco stopped.

"Potter," he muttered. Potter had been his rival, ever since he'd spurned his offers of friendship. Once in Diagon Alley before he even knew who the dark haired boy was and then again as they hurtled toward school aboard the Hogwarts Express for the very first time. At that point, Potter, and anyone he claimed as a friend had become Draco's enemy.

"Potters friends …" 

The thought of Hermione troubled Draco. She didn't react as girls usually reacted. Not like Pansy, who flattered him, or other minor flirtations who melted at the slightest smile. _Hermione_ … it bothered Draco that he was not the only man in her life … to get rid of them, now that would be a triumph. The Weasel would be no trouble. What, after all could that gangly, freckled lump of wizarding dross offer a girl like her? _Nothing_, Draco concluded. For all her protestations Hermione was only human and as such she had basic human needs, such as a certain social standing and at least enough money to live on. Draco Malfoy did not consider Ron Weasley to be a real threat; besides, if he liked the girl surely he'd have done something about it long ago!

Draco looked again at Potter's broom. He thought that it might be fun to try and break the spells that protected it, just to watch him fall on his face in front of the entire school. Draco dismissed the idea; too obvious, but the muscles that circled his eyes tightened. Hermione denied that she and Potter had a past, an argument she maintained even after he suggested that it might not be wise to lie to him. He glared at his own distorted reflection in the polished Firebolt.

Grudgingly, Draco had to admit that Harry Potter was (to a girl) not bad looking. Not only that, he was famous and not short of money. Draco could simply not believe that in all these years Potter and Hermione had never been more than friends. For now he refused to let it bother him. Draco intended to make Hermione forget all the Potters, Weasels and Krums she had ever known; in time she would admit the truth but for now all he wanted to do was spoil Hermione. Maybe then she would forgive him a certain truth he was hiding.

As Draco closed the door of the broomshed and hurried back toward the school he wondered what it was that had led him this way. Hermione did not try to please him or flatter him or even be pleasant to him; she turned away each extravagant gesture, pulling his attention instead to what she perceived to be his shortcomings. He had a growing feeling that she was trying to change him because for each point he conceded she became a little less hard on him; but reform was not part of Draco's plan.

__

Let her try, Draco thought, it was she who would end up changing. He would smooth all those jagged edges and jarring opinions. In time she would become what he wanted her to be. That was no easy task. Hermione despised his name, his money and all that he stood for. She had little vanity to work upon save her intelligence, perhaps a time would come when she would change no more … but that was not a thought for now, for now all he wanted to do was indulge Hermione, to spoil her as only a Malfoy could.

Deep in thought Draco joined the last straggling students being ushered up the steps by Professor Sprout; she gave him a questioning look, which Draco ignored. _So I wasn't at the poxy fireworks display? Do I look as though I care? _he thought. Professor or not, no damned Hufflepuff was going to question his whereabouts.

Draco strode straight past Sprout, across the torchlit entrance hall and down the small flight of steps that led to the Slytherin Dungeon; the damp wall that parted at his word was a welcome sight. He'd come too close to losing something tonight and the familiarity of the long dark common room reminded him who he was. 

But as he gazed around his empty dormitory he found he wondered how she got into her common room. No doubt some sweeping curtain or chatting gargoyle over the entrance, nothing understated for Gryffindor. Draco gave a derisive snort but he couldn't help comparing the silken green and silver hangings and dark carved wood of his dormitory with the glimpse of plush red velvet he had seen in Hermione's. His had a masculine strength, flawless, cold and severe, yet his impression of her room was no less strong, only much more welcoming.

Draco slipped out of his clothes, and threw them over the arm of a straight-backed chair. The flagstone floor was bare; it chilled his feet. Quickly, he slid in between his cold crisp sheets and watched the firelight flicker across the tapestry on the wall. All of a sudden his bed felt very large.

~0~

"Is it true?" cried Ron, red faced and breathless, "Hermione, is it true?"

Hermione ignored his question and turned away to tug the heavy curtains across the window. They trailed all the way down to the floor blocking out the night and all else that lay beyond. Behind her a candle flickered.

"Is it true?" Ron repeated. There was a desperate edge to his voice.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Hermione let go of the curtain and turned round. "Is what true?" she asked, hoping that he wasn't asking the question that she knew in her heart he was asking.

"Him! Malfoy?" the tips of Ron's ear burned pink but his hands were white, held stiff at his sides and balled into tight fists.

"Malfoy!" said both Hermione and Harry.

Hermione stared at her friends. Her eyes flicked from one to another. She didn't know what to say.

"You and him," Ron accused, he seemed disgusted by the taste of the words. "Together!"

However Hermione had thought her friends would react, this was far worse. Ron glared at her with a look normally reserved for piles of vomit, and Harry stared at Ron with an expression of pure disbelief; slowly a pair of green eyes swivelled and came to rest on her.

"Ron, don't," she heard Harry mutter warningly. "Think about what you're saying."

A burning sensation rose in Hermione's gut. It bubbled in her stomach then rose through every vein until she seared from the top of her head to the tips of her fingers. Then the heat sucked back, leaving her feeling hollow and cold. Hermione thought she might be sick.

"Hermione," said Harry, "I'm as confused as you are," he was still trying to be supportive but a more apt word than support popped into Hermione's mind; denial. Ron could only just force himself to say it but Harry could not even bring himself to believe it; he'd be angry later when the truth hit home.

Could she deny everything so that her friends could go on believing her to be the person they had always thought her to be (the person that she herself had thought she was)? No, what she couldn't do was lie to them about it. Her disobedient lips were unable to form the words, she was too afraid of releasing the tears that burned behind her eyes. Hermione simply nodded.

She could see it in the way his shoulders fell, the way his jaw drooped and that way that his eyes clouded. Ron had hoped for a denial, regardless of the truth. All he'd wanted was for her to say that it wasn't true and instead, Hermione had without words kicked a hole in his reality.

A muscle twitched in Ron's cheek, "How could you go near that heap of filth?" he spat, "Have the last six years taught you nothing?" Hermione saw him look at Harry for support but Harry appeared confused. Harry had been so supportive since before Christmas when she and Ron had fallen out; it seemed he was having difficulty accepting her repayment. "His type never change," continued Ron, "I don't know what he's got on you, Hermione, what he's done to you," Ron's tone was pleading but blood bubbled, hot beneath his skin, "Tell me, I'll help you … he'll hurt you Hermione. Have you forgotten what he is?"

Hermione sucked in a long, painful breath. Her throat was dry and Ron was asking her a question she'd asked herself a hundred times without finding an answer. There was no help he could give her. It was too late for that.

"He's a person, Ron," she said flatly, "Just a boy in our year … is it not possible that you're wrong about him? Give him a chance!" Growing looks of amazement told her how futile the argument was; she might as well try to persuade Dumbledore to marry Voldemort. Nothing would make them see past Malfoy's name but she tried anyway. "You just don't know him …"

"And _you_ do?" Ron threw his arms in the air then dug his hands in his pockets. He shook his head, frustrated. "I can't believe I'm hearing this, that whole family's scum!"

"People can change."

"How can you defend him after the things he's said, about you, about Muggles, about … us …?"

Hermione chewed her lower lip. "I love him," she said quietly, talking great interest in the pattern on the thick piled carpet, which she pushed around with the toe of her shoe.

It silenced Ron. He goggled at her as though she'd just hit him with the full body bind.

"Think about what you're saying," said Harry, cast in the unfamiliar role of mediator. Hermione knew how it felt to be there, being sensible and advising everyone. Forced to stay calm when really all you wanted to do was scream. It was usually her place when Harry and Ron fell out or when they went off on one of their ill-considered jaunts. Not this time. Harry was still speaking, "This is Draco Malfoy we're talking about, what's going on?"

Hermione looked directly into Harry's bright green eyes, she read confusion, she read betrayal. Draco _was_ his arch enemy.

"I love him," Hermione repeated, unable to hide that bitter truth from them. A short painful silence that twisted through Hermione's heart followed.

"C'mon Harry," said Ron through tight lips. Hermione watched in silence as the tall redhead grabbed his friend's arm. "Something in here stinks!"

She saw Harry glance back and open his mouth to utter a sentence that never came as Ron propelled him through the door.

Shaking and oozing adrenaline Hermione dashed forward and slammed the door. She wanted to shriek something after them, anything just to make them come back but as she threw herself on her bed and soaked her pillow with tears she knew that a friendship, forged in the heat of a fight with a mountain troll, was at an end.

~0~

The days that followed were the worst Hermione could remember. There were, not including herself, only six people in the Gryffindor tower and none of them would speak to her. If she entered a room, Ron would stand and head for the nearest exit, abandoning whatever he was doing. Harry would follow, pausing only to give her a piercing stare. Ginny talked in a loud voice about "Slytherin Scum" whenever Hermione came near. Hermione longed for the new term to begin if only because it meant that their hostility would be diluted. There were at least some people who wouldn't view her encounter with Malfoy as a sin.

Of course it wasn't all bad. Draco would fly to her window each night and rattle the handle until she opened it. He'd done it first when she hadn't turned up to see him and every message he'd sent was returned unanswered. Hermione had been too upset to care. When Whimsy had slunk away for the eighth time without a reply Draco had come immediately. He pounded on her window, ready to smash in the glass with his fist if Hermione didn't hear him.

Hair uncombed and face streaked with tears, Hermione pulled back the velvet curtain and saw him there. The wind whipped his silvery hair about his face as he braced himself with one leg against the wall. She pulled open the window and looked out impassively.

"The elf begged me to come," he said, nonchalantly but Hermione could tell his concern was true. It was the most welcome thing she had ever felt. Draco was already half way through the window. He propped his broom against he wall and folded Hermione in his arms, his thick warm cloak smothered her, it blocked out everything that was wrong.

Hermione felt relief as she leaned against him. Her legs felt rather weak. "They know…" she managed to say before her words were drowned by tears. She felt herself guided to the bed and cradled, like a child in a fathers arms. Draco listened, with a patience she would not have believed possible to each broken word she had to say. He stroked her hair, her neck, her lips and with a gentle finger he wiped away each tear until with her cheek damp against his chest, she drifted into an anxious sleep.

Hermione woke. An unfamiliar weight pressed on her stomach. Her eyes followed the narrow wrist to an arm and all the way up to a pale sleeping face. With his eyes closed and his lips quivering slightly with each breath he really was beautiful. Taking care not to disturb him she traced the line of his jaw with a finger catching slightly on stubble invisible even in light. As her finger brushed his lips he turned into her palm but he did not wake. Hermione brushed the hair from his face with her other hand. She wanted to kiss him while he slept, while he couldn't take control but his arm pinned her and she couldn't reach without disturbing him. Hermione listened to his gentle breathing and drifted off to sleep again; when she woke again he was gone.

~0~

The Hogwarts Express had barely pulled into Hogsmeade station when the returning students heard the news. By the time they piled into the slow moving horseless carriages that bore them up to the castle the sixth years at least, were buzzing with the news. Correspondence between certain Slytherins had ensured that there could be no secrets.

At that hour Hermione was in the library at her usual desk where the light was good even when the days were short. She was completing an Herbology assignment. A footfall behind told her that she was not alone but Hermione didn't recognise the step.

"Granger," Hermione looked over her shoulder. She turned he head to look at a heart shaped face trimmed with neat golden hair; two cold blue eyes stared boldly into her brown ones. "I heard the strangest thing just now; Mudblood Granger using love potions on Draco Malfoy. Potter not man enough for you?"

"What do you want Pansy?" Hermione asked in a bored tone, it was an old insult and held little charge.

"I told you to stay away from him." Pansy laid one perfectly manicured finger in the centre of Hermione's parchment; the ink smudged beneath, "break it off now or there'll be trouble."

"Shove off Pansy," said Hermione, she knew exactly what Draco thought of Miss Parkinson so the threat was wasted, "It's none of your business."

Pansy straightened and dragged the parchment off the edge of the desk. Hermione's quill fell with it and as they struck the floor ink splattered across her work.

"I gave you a chance, Granger," said Pansy, "you don't get another. We'll see how much you like the real Draco Malfoy." Pansy looked down at the floor as she moved on; she seemed to take great care to tread on the fallen scroll. "Draco writes the most interesting letters you know!" Pansy added with a toss of her hair then she was gone. Only a flowery scent, which hung in the air for several minutes, reminded Hermione that she had been there … the scent and the words. Hermione had no idea what Pansy meant. She resolved to ask Draco as soon as she could, not tonight to her regret but in the morning. 

She thought about summoning the House Elf and asking her to take a message. Draco had explained how it was done, along with the peculiar loyalties of the species. Whimsy, who had entered their service as a willing go between was bound in a way Hermione couldn't quite fathom, to both of them. Even so, she could not betray her actual master, Professor Dumbledore. If Draco was having nearly as bad a time with his friends as she had with hers he wouldn't be feeling too happy right now. Draco was not always restrained, he might take it out on little Whimsy and Hermione didn't want that on her conscience. Hermione wished that she could go to Draco as he had come to her but she knew that was not possible; she didn't even know where he was.

All Hermione could do was wait and as she waited she concentrated on Pansy's words … doubts scuttled like scarabs through her mind; was it a joke? Had she abandoned her friends as part of a prank? Had he been using her all along?

Hermione bent down to retrieve her quill and scroll, there really wasn't time to rewrite it now, perhaps Professor Sprout would understand. Hermione wasn't practised at making excuses about her homework, she could tidy it up a little, it would take her mind off other things. 

Pansy Parkinson could go to hell. Hermione believed in Draco as she had believed in Ron and as she had believed in Harry. The morning would prove her right. With that thought she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and made her way to her common room.

A murmur followed Hermione across the Gryffindor common room, the ripple grew and by the time she reached the stairway to her dormitory the words were almost audible. She'd never realised that so many people knew her, but then, she was a prefect and had a high profile amongst the Gryffindors; Draco, too was well known here. As a Slytherin Prefect he liked to penalise the younger Gryffindors for minor infractions. With difficulty, Hermione ignored the whispers that paired them and condemned them and continued on her way.

Lavender Brown was perched on the edge of her bed fresh from Christmas at home. She was doing a very convincing impression of a wide mouthed frog.

"Is it true?" asked Lavender as the door clicked shut.

Why, wondered Hermione, was everyone so keen on asking that none-specific but oh-so-direct little question? Though it galled to see Lavender's sudden and unprecedented interest in her affairs Hermione nodded.

"Wow," Lavender gasped and drew closer. "How perfect! I hope you don't mind me asking but how does he kiss?" she asked without a shred of embarrassment.

Hermione _did_ mind her asking, it felt awkward to be discussing this with Lavender. It would have felt awkward discussing it with _anyone_! Lavender, it seemed was unaware of Hermione's concern; she continued her line of probing questions "…Parvati's sisters friend in Ravenclaw says he's surprisingly sensuous. Do you know Mandy Brocklehurst? No? Well, they had a thing a while back … it didn't last …"

Hermione's eyes narrowed; she didn't like the idea of Draco kissing "Parvati's sisters friend in Ravenclaw". Of course she knew that he wasn't exactly a paragon of virtue, but really, she didn't need the details. Past was past. 

Lavender was still talking. "… of course I always thought he'd be selfish, rather hard and demanding. I mean, he's so aloof …"

"Not at all," said Hermione, quietly; she turned away so that Lavender couldn't see the grin on her face or the blush that crept up her cheeks at the thought of him.

"Hermione!" Lavender grasped Hermione's arm and looked square into her eyes. "You haven't?"

Lavender Brown, Hermione mused, could fairly be described as one of the most annoying people she knew. Normally she would not be having this sort of conversation with her (or with anyone for that matter) but Hermione was rather short of friends right now and it was worth a little embarrassment to stop feeling like such a pariah.

Hermione bit her tongue and smiled very slightly, "I'm not answering that!" she said in what she hoped was a final tone.

"Hermione!" Lavender actually sounded shocked.

~0~

The first day of a new term dawned with a clear sky and a wintry sun. The snow, which had covered the school, began slowly to melt. Water dripped down from the eaves, it trickled down the walls and seeped into the earth to join the great lake at the base of the cliffs. Hermione went down to breakfast with Parvati and Lavender; she was beginning to learn that even among Gryffindors, while her former friends might be famous, they weren't universally popular.

Lavender and Parvati flitted around stopping occasionally to talk to people Hermione did not even remember having seen before. She waited in the background, offering a weak smile as she tried to remember name after name. Clearly not all Gryffindors were as insular as she, Ron and Harry had been.

"Hi Hermione," said Blaise Zabini as she passed the Slytherin table. Hermione looked around for Draco but she didn't see him there. Detecting no malice from Blaise Hermione replied, "Oh, hi," as if startled by the greeting.

The same thing happened as they passed the Ravenclaw table; Padma Patil and her friends waved at the trio. Again Hermione stuttered a greeting as Lavender and Parvati gushed.

After a walk that seemed to last a week, Hermione, Lavender and Parvati took seats at the far end of the Gryffindor table, Parvati at Hermione's side and Lavender opposite. They were near High table where Hermione had a good view of the entire hall; she wanted to be able to see him come in. Hermione wasn't hungry but she took a slice of toast and began to apply a thin layer of marmalade as she listened to the gossip of her friends.

"… and Eloise Midgen covered in bright green blotches …"

"… You're kidding, that must have been a sight to behold! …"

Hermione nodded every now and then just to remind them that she was still present but her attention was caught by the arrival of Harry and Ron. The house table was crowded so they sat closer than Hermione found comfortable. Ron glared at her through narrowed eyes before turning in his seat to face the other way. No doubt they weren't too happy about the seating arrangements either. 

Again Hermione's eyes were drawn to the Slytherin table; _he_ still wasn't there but slowly a blond head turned and fixed a cold blue eye on Hermione. A nasty smile, visible even at this distance marred Pansy's face.

Parvati nudged Hermione's arm, she pointed to the doorway where Draco entered, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione thought he looked ready to kill someone. Immediately Pansy rose and went to greet him. She kissed him on both cheeks. Their lips were moving. Hermione could not hear what they were saying but it was clear that they were not discussing the weather. Pansy pulled away and after a moment it became horribly clear to Hermione what her destination was; she was heading directly for the Gryffindor table. Involuntarily Hermione stood, only dimly aware of Pansy advancing, Draco following swiftly in her wake and the sudden lull in conversation.

"I thought you should witness this, Granger," said Pansy over the head of Lavender Brown. "Draco has something to tell you." Pansy tossed her head and gazed at Draco, her eyes were daring him to do something; what that something was, Hermione couldn't tell.

"Quiet Pansy," Draco said, Hermione recognised a note of warning there that she didn't like. It made her shiver. "It's not the time or the place for this."

Pansy turned and laid a hand on Draco's arm, "It's exactly the right time," she said as he shook her hand away. His lip curled into a rather nasty half smile that exposed a few very white teeth.

"Why Draco, we had a deal," continued Pansy, she rummaged in the pocket of her school robes and extracted a thick sheaf of letters. Her eyes slipped to Hermione then back to the letters in her hand. She licked one finger and proceeded to flick through them slowly. "Now let me see, ah yes … here's where you raised the stakes …" Pansy extracted a single sheet of paper. Hermione knew Draco's writing … it covered each line of this page. "A bet is a bet."

"No deal," said Draco softly, Hermione saw how tense he was, he was fighting for control, "Pansy, If you continue with this I shall personally strangle you." His eyes caught Hermione's and she had the horrible feeling that he meant every word he said. 

Pansy dropped the page on the table followed by a large money bag, "You snogged the Mudblood, here's the fifty galleons I owe you. You should read that Granger, he doubled the stakes, the very next morning and from what I hear, he won that one too!"

Hermione's world had suddenly become very small. She saw Pansy's triumphant smile. She saw Draco's pewter eyes upon her. She saw them shift to Pansy. To the left a scuffle, a blur of red and black. Draco's eyes sought out her own then he tore them away.

"You win Pansy," he stated. "I didn't sleep with her, I didn't even snog her. I lied." A tight thin smile that did not reach his eyes settled on his lips. "But then she's not as much of a fool as you are … or quite such a slag."

Draco turned to leave but his nose connected sharply with the bony fist of Ron Weasley.

Blood dripping down his chin, Draco pulled himself to his feet. Hermione saw Harry struggling to stop Ron taking a second swing. Draco touched his fingers to his nose and winced. Hermione thought she heard him snarl, "You're dead, Parkinson." then the shrill war cry of Professor McGonnagall dispersed the crowd more effectively than a water cannon.

"Weasley, Malfoy," the remaining onlookers remembered that they had something rather more important to do than watch as the black haired witch thundered up to the Gryffindor table. "Brawling at breakfast. I don't think I've ever seen such behaviour," McGonnagall's eyes blazed behind her small square spectacles. She drew herself to her full height and though she barely reached the noses of the two miscreants she seemed to tower over them. Her gaze flashed from face to face. "And you, a Prefect, Malfoy. What sort of an example is that to set your house? Outside at once, both of you!" The Professor pointed a stiff finger at the double doors of the great hall.

Ron moved first and Draco slunk after him. Professor McGonnagall followed and as her tight black bun disappeared, the hall began to buzz with chatter once again. Hermione lowered her eyes to the letter that Pansy had dropped in the middle of the long polished table; she snatched it in her fist and fled.

__

~fin~

In** _Part Eight: Desperado _**… stalking, soul searching and a bit of none too gentle persuasion. The things we do for love!

****

Authors Notes

Erm, I think I did the cliffhanger thing again, whoops!

****

Sanna, I know you're going to want to kill me for doing this to them but don't give up hope just yet ;)

Thank you **Squin** and **Bumblebee** for lending me your eyes. **Elizabeth**, where are you?

Apologies to Salomon, makers of the wonderful X-Scream ski series; way too good for clods like me to ski on, but I can dream. I thought it would make a good name for a flashy new broomstick:)

If you're not yet on my update list and would like to be send an e-mail to hyria@yahoo.com or seeker@slytherindungeon.net and I will add you.

Feedback (gushing praise or damning criticism) is always appreciated:)

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.


	8. Desperado

**__**

Transi de Froid

By **Incitata**

Part Eight: Desperado

"Called you so many times today

And I guess it's all true what your girlfriends say

That you don't ever want to see me again

And your brother's gonna kill me and he's six feet ten"

Can't stand losing you: Sting, 1978

__

~0~

Hermione looked down at the crumpled piece of parchment that lay across her knees. The words, blue black ink, in a fine angular hand seemed to blur together making it rather difficult to read. Hermione wiped her eyes and traced her finger along the soft crease that split the stiff parchment; it had been folded and unfolded many times before she laid eyes upon it. Somewhere a pipe rattled and clanked before settling with a soft gurgle. In the bright lamplight, Hermione began to read;

__

My dear Pansy

I'm sure you are wondering why I was not on the train to London. Let me tell you. The most inconvenient thing has happened. My blasted parents have decided to go away for the Christmas holidays and at the last minute I was forced to stay at school. Needless to say I am fuming, I have written to the Goyles to see if Gregory can return but I'm not really hopeful. Vincent of course is obliged to accompany the rest of the Crabbes on a trip to Norway so there is no point in trying him. I fear I'm in for a rather dull time. The only other people here are a group of very annoying first years who have dogged my every step since the train left this morning.

This brings me round to a way that my time here might be made more interesting. I know how disappointed you were about the night of the Christmas dance, how all your efforts could not ruin my plan. Pansy, if only you had enlisted the inestimable Zabini to help you, she proved most resourceful and was, ultimately the cause of your defeat; indeed I owe my triumph to the dear girl. No doubt she will exact some form of payment for her services in the future, but I digress.

That same boredom which seized me at the beginning of the term is on me again and whilst the delectable Hermione proved most willing I can't help but wonder if she has more to give. I know I turned down your wager claiming that I would not sully my person, but now that the halls and corridors are quiet, I am tempted. 

I don't think for one moment that it will be easy; if I fail you will have one hundred galleons and I will forfeit my virtue. If I win of course, I will have your money and the pleasure of seeing Potters scrawny face when he hears the news.

Do let me know what you think of the idea, I know just how eager you were for this only a few days ago. Anything for something to do over the next few weeks.

Yours, et cetera.

Malfoy

Hermione blinked. There could be no further doubt, there it was in his own writing. Pansy had been telling the truth; she'd probably even done Hermione a favour, not that the knowledge gave the Gryffindor any comfort. As she placed her feet against the grey cubicle door and leant her head back against the cool porcelain cistern, Hermione thought it was strange how calm she felt. If anyone had asked her how she would feel if someone had used her in this way she'd have told them that she'd be a bit upset but that she wouldn't let it bother her. That would of course have been a lie, she expected at least to cry. 

A shiver ran down her spine but all Hermione's tears had fallen when she lost her friends, there were none left within her to spill for Malfoy.

How could anyone be so callous? Not just about her, though his writing barely acknowledged that she was a person. Not even about his own friends who he seemed to consider to be there for his own convenience, but about himself. Surely no one could really be that detached.

__

Well, Hermione reflected, _Pansy Parkinson is welcome to him_. Presumably Pansy had a warped view of what she should expect from a relationship. If it was overbearing arrogance and utter self absorption she wanted in a partner then she was looking in the right place. They could both grow old and ugly making cynical bets with one another.

Hermione caught the edge of a thumbnail between her teeth; it was torn and kept catching on her robes. Half an hour of picking at it while she brooded had only made the split worse. She chewed thoughtfully on the nail, it provided a focus other than the bold script that lay on her lap. 

How could she had have been such an idiot? The nail gave way with a sharp, wet _Shclick!_ Hermione was half inclined to find Draco and tell him just how much she now hated him, how she hoped Ron had broken, beyond repair that narrow, straight nose that he spent so much time looking down. 

The severed nail fell soundlessly to the tiled floor as Hermione's limp arm flopped down to her side; the only thing she felt was empty. Really, she had thought there was something else there. Not necessarily something good or tameable but something that only emerged when he allowed it to, something … exciting. 

When Draco had approached her it was like having her fantasy man walk into the room. A face for so long unattainable and full of disdain was suddenly turned her way wearing a smile that held deep and dark promises. Draco, she found was addictive. Not at all healthy or wholesome but moreish, he had a mystique and Hermione couldn't get enough of the attention he lavished upon her. Though it annoyed her, he simply exuded confidence. It wasn't false, he really did believe that the world owed him something just because his name was Draco Malfoy. Hermione didn't like to admit it but she couldn't help but be impressed by that attitude, it certainly got him what he wanted.

"Bastard." she gulped, as single tear rolled down her cheek and fell on to the crumpled page. The ink spread within it, splitting into blue and black and purple, rather like a bruise; the words that blurred hurt as much. 

Hermione hated herself for what she was thinking. She'd welcomed _him_ while she trampled over dear sweet Ron who'd always been there for her and Harry who was goodness personified… but, she reasoned, Harry had never so much as looked at her, not like that anyway. And Ron, well Ron hardly knew what day of the week it was when he looked at her. Why couldn't he have just said something, stopped treating her like one of the lads? Then all this would never have happened … it was all Ron's fault!

If Ron wasn't such a twit Malfoy would never have stepped out of her darkest and most secret dreams to take her hand and show her things that intrigued and disturbed her.

Hermione felt a little sick. Potions was the first lesson of the week and of the term. She couldn't face two hours in that room, below ground in a cold and airless dungeon, with Snape peering over her shoulder and making unpleasant observations. And what ammunition he'd have today! There couldn't be a soul in the school, living or dead, who hadn't heard what happened. Hermione couldn't face that … she couldn't face Malfoy leering across a cauldron at her. Wherever McGonagall had taken he and Ron they'd still make it to class; Hermione very much doubted that they'd fall off a cliff or walk under a bus on the way down.

For a moment Hermione wondered if _she_ could transfigure Malfoy into a ferret, she remembered that he made a good ferret … then she could lock it in a cage and fling it in the lake! Shaking her head, Hermione folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket then got to her feet and straightened her robes. 

Instead of making her way down to the dungeons, Hermione did something that she had never before done on purpose. She tramped up the stairs along the familiar path to Gryffindor Tower; where, sick with guilt from playing truant, she locked herself in her dormitory knowing that she would be alone until the end of the day.

~0~

Professor McGonagall marched Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley up the marble staircase and down corridor after corridor until they reached her study on the first floor.

"In," she said tersely as she held the door open for the boys before closing it firmly behind her. "Sit down." McGonagall waved them to two plain wooden chairs before going to open the window to let some air into the stuffy room.

"I'll get you for this Weasley!" hissed Draco under his breath whilst McGonagall's back was turned.

"What, for improving your profile?" replied Ron coolly, "I'd like to see you try."

"It'll be my pleasure," Draco was about to say more but McGonagall was standing behind her desk facing them.

"You can take _that_ expression off your face, Mister Malfoy," she snapped, "This is no laughing matter. Now, perhaps one of you would be good enough to tell me what is going on?"

Draco shifted uneasily in his chair, maintaining a tight-lipped silence. McGonagall's eyes passed over him and settled on his adversary, "You, Mister Weasley?"

"Nothing Professor," said Ron, his eyes narrowed.

"You punched Mister Malfoy in the nose for nothing? I am surprised," McGonagall's head turned suddenly, then she pounced, "Malfoy?"

"It was nothing," Draco replied, stiffly; his words at least corroborated Weasley's story. At school even the deadliest of enemies maintain certain rules and not telling tales is one of them.

"Well then, as you are both so keen on making a fuss over nothing I will determine your punishment. You will both spend the next three nights in detention and I am taking fifteen points from Gryffindor in the light of Mister Weasley's _unprovoked_ assault." 

__

Too right, thought Malfoy, feeling his lip twist involuntarily_, Why not make it_ _thirty_?

"I suggest that you don't look so smug Mister Malfoy, I am recommending that _you_ be suspended from the Slytherin Quidditch team until you learn to demonstrate behaviour appropriate for a Prefect."

Draco's eyes widened; he hadn't even done anything. "My father," he began but McGonagall cut him short, her eyes sparked like struck flints, "Your father will hear about this, make no mistake, as will yours, Weasley. If either of you decides that you'd like to tell me what was going on I may reconsider…" 

Neither boy said a word though they managed to exchange poisonous sidelong glances as McGonagall watched.

"Very well, I will write to your parents at the end of the day if neither of you has decided to come to your senses. Get off to class both of you," McGonagall stood and waved an irritable hand at them. "And Malfoy," she added as she held the door wide open, "go to Madam Pomfrey first, she'll be able to stop that bleeding."

"Yes, Professor," Draco muttered obediently, feeling a fresh trickle of blood begin to ooze over his lip, he didn't need someone who looked as though they regularly sucked lemons reminding him. What, with the deep, dull throb that pulsed at the front of his head he could hardly forget it. Draco walked slowly, watching Weasley's quickening step; his hand crept toward his wand but he was aware of Professor McGonagall's sharp eyes upon his back. By the time Draco turned the corner, Ron was out of sight. 

Draco paused at the top of the marble staircase; he wasn't going to the hospital wing just yet. He stormed straight down to the Slytherin Dungeon, drips of bright blood marking his passage. 

"Shit, shit, shit!" the words punctuated every step. As he reached the stretch of wall that concealed the entrance he glanced down at his hand. It was slick with his own blood. "_Lacertus atrioli_," he spat to open the door, streaking the floor with crimson. 

The Slytherin Common room was deserted which was good because Draco was in no mood to exchange civil words with anyone. He stalked across the low silent chamber and went straight through to his dormitory. When the door swung shut the first thing Draco did was to kick over Crabbe's bedside table sending an assortment of photographs and an alarm clock scattering across the flagstone floor. He wanted to grab Pansy and smash his fists repeatedly into her face then he'd start on the rest of her. Draco continued to fling every movable object at the wall. He pummelled Goyles mattress and ripped the hangings off each bed, flinging them down beneath his feet. Eventually he slumped to the floor with his back against the polished wooden door and wiped his bloody hand across his sweaty forehead.

A burning that felt horribly like tears pushed at Draco's eyeballs. He dug his fingernails into his palms and gazed at the scene of destruction; he hadn't lost control like that since the OWL results came out. Then he had wanted to kill Hermione. If she didn't exist then he would likely be top of the year, and he wouldn't have to endure yet another lecture from his father. Back then he'd passed through the white rage and taken refuge in a sort of daze in which he'd walked and walked until he found the cliff path. He'd had every intention of throwing himself off but the cliff had opened up behind him and in that cave he'd recovered his wits. 

But Hermione didn't understand that, she never would even though he'd taken her there.

"Why the hell would she want to understand?" Draco asked no one in particular, "You've screwed up, Malfoy." he told himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. 

Unwelcome words crept into consciousness, words spoken in cold, cutting anger. Words spoken by his father. "My, my. You really do have an unfortunate knack of souring the most amicable relationships, don't you, boy? … Oh, stop snivelling you insufferable little brat!" his father's anger was not something that Draco liked to attract; it was subtle and it was dangerous, and quick though his reflexes were, Draco had never yet managed to dodge his father's hand. Draco leaned heavily against his palm; yet again his father's words were true.

When he raised his head, Draco's hand was wet. His nose had stopped bleeding though the tang of copper mingled with salt lingered on his tongue.

~0~

It was hard even in a building as vast as Hogwarts to avoid someone, particularly when that someone shared some of the same classes; Potions, Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy. Knowing that she couldn't avoid all those lessons Hermione had taken to leaving quickly (in the case of Potions) or lingering to talk to the teacher (in the case of Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures); in this way she avoided Malfoy.

It was even harder to avoid people who shared a common room. It wasn't that Hermione didn't want to see Harry and Ron, it was just that she felt very uncomfortable around them.

For a whole week Parvati and Lavender had insisted on treating Hermione as though her parents had just died; _As if losing a boyfriend is the end of the world_ she'd protested. _I'm not bereaved; I'm not even bothered. Draco is a git, end of story; I'm not going to give him another thought!_

That had given her friends an idea for a new tactic, which was really beginning to get on Hermione's nerves; they were trying to set her up with Justin. 

"Go on 'Mione," as Lavender insisted on calling her, presumably because Hermione contained too many syllables. "He's fancied you for ages, only he thought there was something with you and Harry."

"Harry!" Hermione rolled her eyes, "Why do people always think I'm seeing Harry?"

Lavender and Parvati glanced at one another. It was for this reason that Hermione dashed out of History of Magic the second the bell had stopped ringing, and it was then that Harry caught up with her.

"Hermione," said Harry, looking rather sheepish, "You got a moment?"

She was surprised to hear his voice but she nodded. "I have a free period, I was going to spend it in the library."

"I'm sorry, I've been, erm, busy," he said.

"Nice try, Harry," Hermione replied as she tied a long shimmering scarf around her neck. They walked side by side into the courtyard; it was cold outside and a few resilient patches of white still clung to the ground in the shadiest corners. It was here that Ron and Ginny and Harry had had the snowball fight that she'd watched. Hermione raised her eyes and looked past Harry, straight up at the little window where Draco had come upon her at Christmas, when all she had wanted was to be with her friends down in the courtyard. Hermione blinked, thinking that she saw movement up there, but it must have been the reflection of a bird, or a cloud or of sunlight. 

Hermione lowered her gaze and sat on the low wall and dropped her bag at her feet, "I thought I was persona non grata," she said, and tried to catch Harry's eye.

Harry's cheeks reddened. 

__

Feeling guilty?, Hermione thought, watching Harry's breath spiral in steamy fingers against the cold air.

"I, well. I was surprised…" he said slowly, pushing his glasses a little way up his nose. "I can't say I'm sorry that it didn't work, but Hermione, you deserve better treatment than that, what he did…"

"Did Cho ask you to speak to me?" Hermione asked, rather more directly than usual; she didn't feel much like sparing his embarrassment.

Harry nodded, "I didn't think you'd want to speak to us … me, after the way I reacted, but Cho thought you might be feeling a bit…"

"Sorry for myself?"

"Yeah,"

"I'm fine. I should have seen it, Harry. But I can handle Malfoy, I can handle a dozen Malfoys!"

"What a horrible image," remarked Harry, "one's bad enough! But if it makes you feel any better he's been suspended from the Slytherin Quidditch team, they've got some no hoper as Seeker," Hermione didn't want to talk about Draco or about Quidditch; that stupid sport had started all this anyway! Something in Hermione's gaze must've shown her annoyance because Harry quickly changed the subject, "I'm just glad you're okay, we … I've been worried. You've missed classes and that's just not like you."

Harry was as easy to talk to as ever. For a moment Hermione wondered why he'd never … then she released an almost wistful sigh and pulled herself together. "To tell you the truth, Harry, I don't know what's like me anymore but I'll be okay. And Harry, you don't have to be nice." she smirked and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Really, you can be as annoyed as you like…"

Harry grinned. "He'll kill me for telling you but Ron's annoyed enough for both of us," he reached out a hand and touched the scarf that was wrapped around Hermione's neck, "Isn't that the scarf Ron got you for Christmas?"

Hermione nodded. To someone watching from above the gesture would have resembled a caress but to Hermione it was just an ending of hostilities. "Take care," said Harry, then he hurried off to Divination.

This time Hermione was sure that she saw a movement behind the small diamond paned window half way up the castle wall. She got to her feet but everything was still. Puzzled she continued on her way to the library.

~0~

"Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall. The lunch bell had just gone and Hermione was keen to get away by herself for an hour, she'd thought a lot since Harry had spoken to her the previous day and she had a growing, niggling, uncomfortable feeling that she was being watched. She had sworn not to let Malfoy bother her but she couldn't help thinking that he was around more often than he ought to be. Almost every time she turned around he would be watching her from a doorway, or walking by, or flicking slowly through a book in the library.

"Yes Professor McGonagall?" Hermione responded, not quite brightly.

"Miss Granger, Hermione. If you have a moment I would like a word."

Hermione surmised that she didn't really have a choice, "Of course." 

McGonagall waited until the last student had filed past, then she looked very seriously at Hermione with beady eyes. "I know that you've been … ill, at the beginning of this term, some of the teachers have said to me that your marks have been lower than usual," the phrasing was so careful that it was painful. It seemed to Hermione that McGonagall was doing anything to avoid accusing her of skiving; somehow she knew that McGonagall had made the connection between herself and Malfoy and was choosing to be tactful, but as far as Hermione was concerned she was okay and doing just fine. The professor seemed to think otherwise, "If there is something bothering you…?" McGonagall might as well have been sitting by the edge of a pond holding a rod.

"There's nothing bothering me, Professor," Hermione said, "I'm sure I don't why you think there's a problem," Hermione thought of Draco's words, about lying; she was lying now, to McGonagall and to herself but she wasn't going to take notice of anything _he'd_ said.

Professor McGonagall gave Hermione a long, searching look; she clearly didn't believe a word Hermione said but long experience had taught her when not to pry. "Very well, Miss Granger," she said, eventually. "I trust you will have no problems with the seven foot composition I set this lesson."

"None at all," replied Hermione with a very small smile, then a thought occurred. "Professor," she asked, "Would it be possible for me to use one of the Transfiguration classrooms to work in? The library closes at eight and the common room is very crowded in the evenings … It _is_ quite hard to work in there with all the babble…"

The teacher's face relaxed a little, maybe because she'd once been in Gryffindor she understood how crowded the tower could be, "Why of course, Hermione," McGonagall said kindly. "I'll leave classroom three unlocked for you, but don't devote all your time to work. Remember, your house mates need you too."

Hermione forced a smile, certain that some her housemates would like her to drop dead round about now. "Of course Professor, it'll be a real help." 

There was no way Malfoy would find her there and the solution also seemed to cheer up Professor McGonagall. Hermione supposed that noisy distractions were an acceptable excuse for sliding marks. Now maybe she could do something about them. After all Hermione still hoped to be Head Girl next year, and it would be unfortunate if she didn't come top for the sixth year in a row. 

__

Back to what I'm good at, thought Hermione with grim determination, _Model student, good grades, perfect prefect, Head Girl_. It sounded rather like a mantra. She didn't ask Malfoy and his crooked opinions into her life, and if he thought she was going to let it ruin her record, well he had another thing coming. 

Hermione was not going to think of Malfoy ever again. 

~0~

Lavender had not taken Hermione's hints regarding Justin Finch-Fletchley seriously and as she passed the Hufflepuff table that night…

"Hermione," said Justin, breathlessly. "So sorry to bother you but Lavender said…"

Hermione's brow wrinkled, A_rrrggghh, How tiresome! _Justin was nice enough, he had a mop of curly brown hair that fell over his eyes, a wide, slightly ruddy face and a cheerful hearty manner; if he hadn't turned out to be a wizard Hermione thought he would probably be playing rugby for Eton by now.

"… that you might come to the Quidditch match on Saturday … with me. I know Gryffindor are playing but I'd rather support them … you, than Slytherin."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Thanks Justin. I'll see you by the broomshed." she moved swiftly on with no intention of doing any such thing. For some reason she hadn't felt able to disappoint the earnest young Hufflepuff. _He'll get over it_, she thought, secretly hoping that Justin wouldn't be too disappointed when she didn't turn up.

The Gryffindor went straight from the great hall to classroom number three. Hermione's footsteps echoed down the empty corridors; no one ever came here at night. There would be no distractions, no Lavender, no Parvati, no Harry, no Ron … the door swung open without a sound … and no Malfoy and his … Hermione dropped her bag on a desk and remembered that she wasn't thinking about Malfoy_. _

As far as you're concerned he never existed, she told herself, _Draco who?_

Hermione sat and drummed her fingers on the desk, "Git." she said, and took out a large pile of books, a fresh roll of parchment, a quill and a small bottle of brownish ink. Hermione lay a large volume; _Squaring the Circle and Dividing the Pi: An Arithmantic Perspective by Dr P. R. O'tractor_. She opened it then leaned forward and began to explore its yellowed pages, taking notes along the way.

A strange prickling feeling crossed the back of Hermione's neck; she looked up for a moment but there was no one there. Brushing her hair behind one ear she returned to her work.

~0~

He watched her quietly. In lessons she surrounded herself with others, talked to the teacher and sometimes, she did not turn up at all. Draco could not get near enough to speak to her and after three nights stuck with Weasley, helping Argus Filch clean out toilets, Draco thought he at least deserved a word; it was her stupid friend that had caused it.

He wrote a note on heavy paper and sealed it in a bright blue envelope with a large dollop of purple wax. He called Whimsy who returned just minutes later holding four torn squares of paper; the seal hadn't even been broken. Draco threw the shreds at the elf who promptly vanished. Now the little blighter would no longer appear when he summoned it. Hermione, it seemed wasn't the only one who had decided not to take any more of his abuse.

Once, he had found her in the library, alone at that desk; it was late afternoon and in the fading light she looked tired. He approached quietly and laid a hand lightly on her shoulder. Hermione did not even turn her head, she simply pushed back her chair and without pausing to collect her things, she stood and walked away. It was as though she could smell him; she didn't even have to look. 

Another time he waited there for an hour, flicking through the pages of a book and ignoring the glares of Madam Pince who seemed to feel he was making the place look untidy. Hermione had walked in and walked right out again. Draco dropped the book on a table and started after her but the old vulture blocked his way and made him put the book back on the shelf. 

Everything and everyone seemed to be conspiring against him.

Draco followed her about the school in the shadows, waiting for a moment to speak with her; a moment where she couldn't get away but always she seemed to be with someone.

But eventually a moment came.

Draco saw Hermione slip into the empty Transfiguration classroom, it was Seven O'clock and she could be here for no other reason than to work alone. Through the tiny glass pane in the centre of the door he watched as she began to unpack her books, as she sat down at a desk facing the door and brushed her hair behind one ear. His fingers were splayed across the door and his breath was heavy. Anyone else, he thought would take the hint and leave her alone but no, he was Draco Malfoy and his family was denied nothing – so he'd been taught. He could see her fingers tracing their way along a wide yellowish page of some unspeakably large tome; Draco imagined it was skin, his skin and that it was he who drew that interest from her eyes, not a bunch of words written by a mad magician.

Hermione looked so composed, as if nothing had affected her. Had he really expected red eyes and tears? Draco wasn't sure, but she was a picture, enraptured in her work; so relaxed and natural. Draco absorbed every shift, every blink, every time her brow wrinkled then smoothed as she tackled each challenge, lit always by soft flickering lamplight. 

Draco closed his eyes and opened them again slowly, had he possessed an eidetic memory it would have been imprinted there forever. His hand reached for the door handle but his fingers froze against the cold metal. He could watch her and surely she loved him, otherwise she wouldn't be sitting there, allowing him to see. 

His muscles were stiff from standing so still for so long but as Hermione extinguished the lamp, Draco retreated into the shadows. She came out of the classroom and carefully closed the door. A heavy bag was slung over her arm.

Hermione glanced suddenly over her shoulder and Draco gasped. He thought she'd seen him. He pressed back into the niche he shared with a statue of a wizened witch and released a sigh as she moved on.

~0~

Saturday came. Most of the school had made their way to the great oval playing field to watch the match between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Draco was in a foul mood. Professor McGonagall hadn't been bluffing when she threatened to have him removed from the team. A note had arrived that very morning in Dumbledore's handwriting reminding him that until staff were satisfied that he was "…setting an example befitting a Prefect…" he would not be allowed to play. It occurred to Draco then, that calling Madam Pince a snaggle toothed old hag in front of a group of second years hadn't been such a good idea.

Growing bored of slouching around an empty common room, Draco walked about the school and came to lurk sulkily in the courtyard. At least the sun was warm there and the sound of cries and cheers from the Quidditch pitch would not carry that far. He spent a few minutes kicking stones at a wall then he caught sight of someone else who would usually have been occupied with Quidditch, _Hermione_. 

Draco ambled toward the door and followed a safe distance, he was becoming remarkably good at it; not that trailing people is a useful life skill unless one plans to become a spy. Still, it was the only way he could be near her. Hermione appeared to be going to that classroom again. Draco hung back; he knew the way so there was no need to get too close. 

The view through the small window was just as he had imagined; there she was, at the little desk with her books and her brains. A stream of sunlight poured in through the mullioned window, lighting the dusty air, which shimmered like a veil. _Why not do it now?_ he thought, _she'll either listen to you, or she won't and there's no one around for her to run to_, he added.

Reaching out an eager hand, Draco twisted the handle and pushed. Hermione looked up. Draco smiled.

"Hermione," he said, stepping forward, "You've been avoiding me."

"Very perceptive, Draco," she replied, Hermione immediately returned her attention to the books which she pulled one by one from her bag, placing them in a neat pile on the desk. "I don't have anything to say to you and I find silences rather awkward, don't you? Feel free to leave!" her voice sounded strained, as though it took some effort to keep the tone even and light. Draco pushed the door closed behind him then he walked slowly into the room; his pace was measured and designed to intimidate. It appeared to be having the desired effect.

Draco paused with his hands behind his back; he observed Hermione as she continued to ignore him. Hermione pushed back her chair. "Well, if you won't leave, I will," she got to her feet and moved quickly toward the door, "I'm sure Professor McGonagall _will_ be interested to hear that you're harassing me." she was almost at the door. 

Draco quickly processed her words, _Harassing?_ That was hardly fair!

"No!" Draco grabbed her wrist as she reached for the door handle and spun her round to face him, her own momentum threw her up against him. Draco's hands pinned her arms to her sides and he used his body to push her against the door. He pressed hard with his chest and hissed into her face. "You are going to stay here and listen to me, I don't care what sort of a bastard you think I am, but you are going to stay here and listen to every word I have to say, even if I have to knock you out and tie you up; and don't think that I wouldn't do it."

Draco felt Hermione's body tremble against his and he closed his eyes. Her fear surprised him, he didn't want to terrify her; he pulled back a little but kept his hands firmly on her shoulders to stop her from running. 

"Let me go, Draco!" Hermione said through gritted teeth. He suspected that he was hurting her, but if that was the only way he could make her stay, so be it.

Draco shook his head. "Not until you've listened to me," he said.

"Make it quick!" spat Hermione.

Hesitantly Draco lowered his hands to his sides, he hooked his thumbs in his belt and looked down at Hermione. She breathed deeply, as if gathering something from the air around her then she rolled her shoulders and slapped Draco hard across the cheek with the back of one hand.

"How dare you try to bully me!" she raged, reminding Draco uncannily of an irate Professor McGonagall. He lightly touched his lip, suspecting it may be split. Draco stepped back and seized both of Hermione's wrists, just in case she fancied a second try. "Let me go!" Hermione protested, struggling against him.

Draco shook his head and almost lifted her off her feet, "If you keep doing that you'll hurt yourself," he warned as he pulled the wriggling Hermione across the classroom to a chair. Holding her wrists in one hand he shoved her into the chair and held her there with the other. When she had stopped struggling he spoke again. "Stay there and listen to me, I'd prefer it if you didn't take another swipe, I'm feeling a bit _delicate_." he tried to make light of his battered face. 

Draco knelt down between Hermione's knees, still restraining her hands with his. "I'll make it quick," he said, not sure how to deal with the appal that darkened her eyes. "Yes, I made and won a bet to get off with you at the Christmas dance, and if you had any idea of the effort required …" Draco shook his head, Hermione wouldn't see two months of spreading rumours as a positive thing … _Really though,_ he thought, _she should be flattered!_ he'd never before made so much effort for another person. 

Draco pursed his lips, "Bad choice of words," he said, almost apologetically then he smiled thinly, "Pansy, of course was livid, but then she's never quite forgiven me for dumping her and she really can't afford to lose that sort of money. Of course she wanted the stakes to be _me_ if I lost. Like an idiot I agreed but the idea of Pansy again … I have some taste!" Draco snorted then caught sight of Hermione's face. Deciding that he might not look as well with missing teeth he returned to his explanation. "Anyway, I won. Fifty Galleons. Only you and I know what really happened out there by the lake. To win, all I needed was a kiss and I'm not given to sullying peoples reputations undeservedly and you my dear…" 

Hermione's knee lifted sharply.

It came dangerously close to Draco's chin. He placed his free hand on her knee and pushed her leg firmly back to the ground. He was rather pleased that he hadn't allowed her enough space to move it more decisively. 

Draco waited until he had her full attention, "Now, now Hermione," he might be desperate but he was determined to stay in control. "Listen now, and if you feel the need to beat me to a pulp later, I won't resist," he lowered his eyes, and added, almost playfully, "much!"

"I tried to explain all this to you the day after, I don't know why … but I felt a little guilty about what I'd done. I forget precisely what I said … but you wouldn't listen to me and like an ass I kissed you. I bet you weren't expecting that … certainly, I wasn't." he laughed humourlessly, "then that Weasley idiot turned up, just after you'd declared that you would never love me. That hurt, Hermione, leaving me without hope. I wasn't at all pleased with you!

"The letter was written just after that," Draco looked again into her eyes. They were hard and almost black even in the morning light. He'd hoped to see something that might hint at forgiveness or even at understanding but he saw nothing but qualities usually associated with obsidian and similar minerals. "Think about it. All my friends had gone home, you had rather annoyed me and I needed something to entertain me … and do try to be objective, otherwise you'll misunderstand.

"_I_ misunderstood, I realised _that_ after an afternoon with you." Draco looked away in case his eyes gave away too much, "What Pansy didn't show you was the next letter telling her that the bet was off, that I simply couldn't do such a thing. Yes, against my own will I actually liked you … I still do. I warned her that I wouldn't allow her to do this, but like I said, she _is_ still a bit obsessed with me. I understand that she has made some rather unpleasant threats to you, Hermione. … Do tell me and I'll take them into account when I deal with her."

Draco looked up into a pair of wide shocked eyes, "What the blazes do you mean, deal with her?" Hermione gasped, Draco felt her wrists twist in his grasp but not enough to break it. He groaned, but inwardly her reaction pleased him. If Hermione was really that horrified she would have tried a little harder to get away and he would have let her go; "Say the word, Hermione, and I'll not lay a finger on her."

A particularly satisfying image of Pansy, her eyes and cheeks swollen, bloody lips gasping for breath as his forearm pinned her against a wall by the throat, edged into Draco's mind, another well aimed kick and … his eyes narrowed … _Just tell me that you'd like me to kill her_, he thought. Draco was twice Pansy's size but as far as he was concerned that just gave him an advantage. Hermione's approval would just …

"Lay a finger …" Hermione spluttered, pushing hard against Draco. The idea seemed to be giving the Gryffindor some trouble.

"After what she's done to you?" Draco suspected that there were several nasty things Hermione would like to do to Pansy Parkinson but he didn't think she'd ever be willing to admit it, she was too much of a hypocrite for that. Much easier to appear offended when he expressed the sentiment. "I'm surprised that …"

Hermione interrupted, "After what _you've_ done, Draco," she protested. 

He blinked, not so long ago he'd have liked to do the same to Hermione, a bit of revenge for every exam in which she'd bested him; for one moment Hermione's face replaced Pansy's and Draco's fingers tightened around her wrists, then Hermione's sharp voice dispelled the bruised image, "You are unbelievable! How can you even talk about such a thing?"

Draco's gaze faltered, "For you!" he said in astonishment, releasing Hermione's hands as if she were on fire. "Because she tried to humiliate you in front of the entire school." _I'm trying to protect you, you little idiot, _he muttered beneath his breath_. Can't you see that?_

Hermione shot to her feet, watched by Draco who remained on his knees. "First you bet that you can snog me, then you bet that you can sleep with me, all the while claiming that you are in love with me. Confronted about it you deny that you've been anywhere near me and then you tell me that you want to beat up a girl because she put _you_ into an awkward situation …" Hermione's voice had reached a pitch rarely heard by anyone but bats, "You utter … utter … shit!"

"Not at all," Draco pulled himself to his feet, knocking the chair over in his haste. He moved toward Hermione but she had ensured there was a desk between them, he couldn't reach her. Draco leaned casually against the desk and looked down at his feet hoping that he looked unconcerned. "I told her it was off, that I couldn't do that to you. And I told her what I'd do if she persisted … I'm a man of my word, if nothing else." he dragged a hand through his hair and glared at Hermione, "Do you have any idea what I am saying Hermione, when _I_ say that I love _you_?" he said it very slowly as if talking to a halfwit.

Silence. 

That was answer enough for Draco. She really did not understand. What was the bloody point of trying to explain? How could a damned Mudblood even come close? … What ever had he been thinking? "That's it then." Draco shrugged; he smiled nastily, "I wish you luck in rebuilding your friendships. And believe me, you'll need it." he shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped toward the door.

"You complete …" Hermione shrieked, but she didn't finish her sentence. She darted round the desk and lunged at Draco. Hermione thudded into his back and knocked Draco heavily to the floor. Hermione fell with him and he lay stunned for a few seconds as her fists whacked his head and his chest, then, as he recovered his breath, he swung round and wrestled her to the ground. He straddled her chest but threw most of his weight forward to grind her flailing fists against the rough stone floor. Her legs kicked but he didn't need to worry about them. Draco pressed a little harder, just to make sure he had her full attention.

"Stop it, Hermione," he growled, his lips almost touching hers "stop it right now." Draco was used to violence, he had been on the receiving end more than once and he knew perfectly well how to use it effectively against another, with or without assistance, but he'd never, ever found the experience particularly pleasurable. Necessary, but never thrilling, and certainly not erotic, but with Hermione trapped beneath him …

Draco shuddered and made a strangled noise that sounded like "Urgh!" He was disgusted with himself at the thought, the idea that he might have to bash a girl over the head to get her was something new to him and he didn't like it; it was so base. He opened his mouth to speak but he caught Hermione's eye, her gaze was filled with defiant amusement; she seemed to find his confusion entertaining.

"What _do_ you want, Malfoy?" she asked.

He hadn't expected the question, he hadn't expected _any_ questions. Draco looked at her with what he feared might be a rather gormless expression. "You turn from threats, to reason, to foreplay with barely a thought … have you ever looked at _yourself_?" For a girl pinned to the floor beneath a young man in a rage, Hermione sounded remarkably glib, "If you could see what I can see right now …" she shook her head, spreading the swathe of brown hair out further across the dusty floor. A citrus tang tickled Draco's nostrils; like her words, he found it very hard to ignore. "maybe then you'd understand yourself. But no, tell me what you want … if you know what you want, that is."

Draco looked down at Hermione who was looking up at him through astonishingly calm brown eyes. Against his will the corners of his mouth twisted into a smile. "I know what I want," he replied, perhaps she had already beaten him, he thought, for now. "but I think if I pursue it, I might get hexed … to Hawaii … and back …" he let it hang there. The words were still fresh in his memory and if she was half the woman he thought her to be Hermione would recognise them. 

Hermione didn't reply. She appeared uncomfortable but Draco didn't relax his hold, flat on the floor and above her head he could see what her hands were doing, he wouldn't release Hermione just yet, in case she tried to attack again. He raised one eyebrow as he waited for her to say something … anything. 

The words that eventually came horrified Draco.

"You're wasting your time, Malfoy. You might find it nice in Ohua, I don't know. But if you try anything like that my boyfriend will knock your head off."

"Your what …?" he exclaimed, rigid.

"I don't think he'd be too happy about you holding me here either." Hermione's stony gaze did not waver.

"Potter?"

"Why do you people always jump to that conclusion?" Hermione shook her head. The look in her eyes was cold, piercing, and utterly sincere. "not Harry you idiot. Justin!"

"Justin?" Draco sat up giving Hermione room to twist, she knocked Draco sideways and scrambled backwards. Draco fell clumsily, banging his elbow hard on the floor.

"Yes," Hermione said determinedly, as she got to her feet and began to hurriedly stuff books into her bag. "Justin."

"Who the hell is Justin?" questioned Draco, incredulous. There was something calculating in Hermione's eyes that he hadn't noticed before. If she wasn't always so righteous he'd have thought she was … no, that was ridiculous. Draco watched foolishly as she zipped up her bag, pulled it on to her shoulder and stood facing him with her wand held in her fist.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley" Hermione replied lightly, tightening her fingers around her wand. "He's in Hufflepuff."

If Draco had been eating he would have choked. "When …?" he managed to say.

"Hard though it may be for you to believe, Malfoy but some people aren't ashamed of being seen with me. They don't mind if their friends know we're going out. In fact they quite like it. Now if you wouldn't mind getting out of my way I need to meet him. Gryffindor are going to wipe the floor with Slytherin and _I_ really don't want to miss that!"

Hermione pushed straight past Draco and bolted through the door. Draco followed anxiously a few seconds behind. "Hermione! What about us?"

"What about us?" she replied, in the most heartless tone she could muster.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was about to get the surprise of his life.

__

~Fin~

In **_Part Nine: Quincunx _**… Draco, Ron and Harry finally agree on something but Justin Finch-Fletchley thinks that Christmas has come again!

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Authors Notes

That must be the longest one so far. For anyone who's interested the password to the Slytherin Dungeon translates as _Lounge Lizard._

A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. I hope you are enjoying reading TdF as much as I am enjoying writing it. Stick with me, please. As usual, if you're not yet on my update list and would like to be, send a note to either hyria@yahoo.com or seeker@slytherindungeon.net .

The biggest thanks of all go to my growing tribe of Betas; **Bumblebee** the grammar fiend, **Squin** the plot bunny and **Daphne** for a good all round pair of eyes. This is the second chapter on which they've been at work (the things people will do for a sneak preview;)).

And to anyone else who has trouble with McGonagonagonagonagonall's name, I can't spell it either!

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.


	9. Quincunx

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.

**__**

~~0~~

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Transi de Froid

By **Incitata**

Part Nine: Quincunx

"You know

that I adore you

you know

that I love you

so don't make me say it

it would burst the bubble

break the charm"

Bjork: Debut 1993

__

~0~

The result of the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor came as a surprise to everyone. The Slytherins were fielding the strongest team they'd had in several years, they were fit, well trained and worked together with ruthless efficiency. Their Captain, Adrian Pucey had done a remarkable job on a team where personal glory often came before co-operation. When the Gryffindor team heard that the Slytherin Seeker had been suspended they could barely keep the news secret. Without Malfoy on the team they stood a fighting chance; his replacement, unfamiliar with the gameplan might make mistakes.

Students and teachers swarmed down to the Quidditch pitch at ten o'clock on Saturday morning. The conditions were perfect, no breeze, clear sky and bright January sunshine. No one wanted to be stuck inside on a day like this. Owing to the current balance of points in the House Championship many Ravenclaws were lending their support to the Slytherin team and joined in the booing as the Gryffindors walked on to the pitch. When the Slytherins followed carrying their broomsticks over their shoulders a gasp arose in certain sections of the crowd. 

"Who's that?" spat a Slytherin seventh year before hiding his head in his hands.

"Where's Malloy? a Ravenclaw sixth year asked a friend.

"Malfoy!" corrected Lisa Turpin, tartly.

Ron nudged Harry; "It was worth keeping the secret just for their reaction really." He grinned. Their eyes darted over the faces of the Slytherins who faced them across the pitch; between Malcolm Baddock and Graham Pritchard, the Slytherin Beaters, a smaller nervous looking boy stood. The Gryffindors didn't even know his name.

A loud muttering tainted the air by the time the players mounted their brooms but silence fell as Madam Hooch released the balls and blew her whistle. 

The game was on.

The Gryffindors were right to have been worried. Nothing could get past the Slytherins with its limbs intact and their attack was just as hard, and beautifully orchestrated; what they lacked today was a Seeker. The Slytherin team ratcheted up Ten points, Twenty, Thirty, Forty before the Gryffindors even got near their goal. Their score was at Sixty before one of the Gryffindor Chasers finally lobbed the Quaffle through the hoop. After two hours of play the elusive Snitch had not been seen once and the score stood at One Hundred and Fifty to Ten in the highest scoring match the school had seen in a long time.

Harry's eyes scanned the field; Gryffindor could still win if only he could find the Snitch in time, then his eyes widened as he caught sight of something that nearly made him fall off his broom. Without that particular sight drawing his eyes that way Harry would never have seen the Snitch, which hovered tight against the stands, camouflaged against a yellow Hufflepuff banner. Harry ducked to dodge a Bludger sent his way by one of the Slytherin Beaters.

A roar erupted from the crowd, Slytherin had another goal, One Hundred and Sixty points to Ten! 

The maths wasn't difficult. There was only one option other than a resounding (not to mention embarrassing) defeat. The Golden Snitch flashed in the sunlight and Harry saw the Slytherin's last minute Seeker above him making leisurely circuit of the field. 

It was times like this that Harry actually missed Malfoy; he wouldn't have given him so much space, he'd be right on Harry's back. Harry's eyes flicked between the stands and the Snitch as Harry inched his broom sideways, then he swerved as if to avoid the broom of one of Gryffindors own Beaters. Harry dived and he pulled up sharp against the stand with the Snitch held fast in his grasp. 

The Gryffindors cheered and the Slytherins scoffed. 

It was a draw. 

Harry's head bobbed up above the rim of the stand.

"Hi Hermione!" said Harry with a wave. He peered a little closer then added, "Hi … Justin!"

Hermione jumped, disentangling herself from the Hufflepuff. Her face was scarlet. Harry didn't wait for a reply. He grinned and flew down to join his team. Harry glanced at Ron who was spitting a string of words that would have made a Boggart blush. Quidditch wasn't the only game at which the both houses had drawn, thought Harry.

Harry didn't tell Ron what he'd seen while they were in the changing rooms or even as they walked back up to school. Ron was too busy muttering, darkly about blatching, cobbing and stooging; he even went as far as to suggest that Madam Hooch might need her eyes testing. Not triumphant but relieved that they hadn't actually lost the game the Gryffindor team traipsed back toward the school.

Much later Harry found Ron sitting on a rug in front of the fire in the common room. Harry shrugged; there would never be a right time to tell Ron so now would do:

"Justin Finch-Fletchley!" Ron roared, dropping his toasting fork and consigning his crumpet to a fiery end. He gaped at Harry. "When?"

"At the Quidditch match this morning. They were in the stands together, snogging." 

Ron hadn't noticed, he'd been too busy trying stop the Slytherin Chasers chucking the Quaffle through his hoops; Seekers might have time to watch what was going on but Keepers certainly didn't.

Harry threw his cloak over the back of a couch and sat down on the rug next to Ron. "I just spoke to Hannah, apparently they're now officially an item."

"Great," said Ron, mournfully. "Why am I never around when she's single?"  


"You only had four years," said Harry, blandly. "Give her a break Ron, she's had a hard time recently."

"Deserves it!" Ron muttered half-heartedly as he tried to retrieve his fork from the flames. "Stupid idiot, going near that git."

"Which git?" asked Harry.

"Both of them!"

~0~

The following Saturday was a Hogsmeade weekend. Hermione waited by one of the suits of armour in the vast entrance hall for Justin. She didn't know where the Hufflepuff common room was and didn't really want to. It was she who had suggested that they meet here. Hermione found that her eyes kept wandering from the stairway over to the dark archway on the other side of which lay the staircase that led down to the dungeons; she kept jerking them back. Dark things lurked in those dungeons. 

"Hi Herm," said Justin. Hermione felt a thick arm snake its way round her shoulders she noticed that his other hand held a parcel, carelessly wrapped in brown paper. Ernie Macmillan was with him. "You don't mind if Ern comes with us do you? He was going with Hannah but she caught a rotten cold. Stuck in the infirmary."

"Course not, hi Ernie." Hermione turned to Justin. "I told Cho Chang we'd meet her and Harry in the Three Broomsticks later."

"Great." Justin smiled, "Let's go."

They walked down the long driveway toward the main gate, their feet crunching loudly on the gravel. Hermione paused for a second and looked out over the lake just where a low ragged hedge separated the road from the cliff. Squashed grass and snapped twigs suggested that someone had walked there recently.

"You coming, Herm?" Justin came back and smiled at Hermione.

Hermione looked down at her feet, "Just tying my lace," she said and quickly bent down to fiddle with the perfectly tied bow that secured her shoe. Hermione craned her neck to get a look at the path in daylight, from what she could see it barely qualified as a ledge. What nutter would have walked that way in the first place, let alone taking her there with him at night? It just didn't make sense, hardly the right place to go for a stroll! 

Seeing Justin and Ernie were growing restless Hermione straightened and dashed after them. "What are your plans?" she asked hoping that she sounded interested.

"Zonko's then the Three Broomsticks," said Ernie.

"I want to post this home," Justin waved the parcel, "Pop into Honeydukes and then I'll join you in the Sticks."

"How _old_ are you?" grinned Hermione, "Really, a sweetshop at your age!"

"Some of us are just big kids, we were born that way and always will be." Justin laughed, Hermione thought that when he did that he looked rather like a very large happy puppy, a bit like Fang. Big and harmless. "Take Snape, I think he was born bitter, and Neville Longbottom."

"Born clumsy," chipped in Ernie.

"Hmmm," commented Hermione, she wondered about Neville. Everyone was good at something; Neville just had to find out what it was, unless of course he was just good at melting cauldrons. 

__

Ernie Macmillan, born boring! Hermione thought, making an effort to get in the spirit.

"And those Weasley twins from a couple of years back," said Justin, "born clowns."

"And don't tell me," said Hermione, finding their basic pigeonholing rather boring, "I was born forty and always will be, right?"

"I wasn't going to say that Herm. Anyway, what's wrong with being sensible?"

"Nothing, usually." Hermione wasn't always sensible, not any more.

Ernie spoke, "So you reckon people are born one way and don't change?"

"Well," said Justin thoughtfully, "Upbringing has a lot to do with it but I suppose there must be a point after which a person can't change. Take that Malfoy, he's been around a certain attitude since he was born, so much so that it's part of him."

Hermione felt her face grow hot; she saw Justin glance her way then hesitate. "Sorry Herm," he said, uncomfortably "I forgot."

"Don't be!" she said emphatically, what surprised her was that someone who appeared so nice could hold such prescriptive views and condemn people so lightly for being born what they were born as. At least Malfoy made no secret of the fact that he judged people on superficial factors like blood or wealth; these two were just as prejudiced and they didn't even seem to know it! Why was she defending Malfoy, even if it was only in her head? _Stop it_, Hermione told herself then she gave a bitter laugh, "Nothing could change Malfoy for the better except maybe a bullet!" 

Justin and Ernie simply stared.

Hermione went to Gladrags leaving Justin and Ernie to buy as many bags of Fizzing Whizzbies and Dungbombs as they wanted. It was nice to get rid of them for a while and Hermione didn't really think they'd enjoy looking for underwear. No, actually she thought that they would enjoy it. Hermione really didn't want to give Justin any ideas; he'd come as close to the inside of her robes as he ever would.

About an hour later, carrying a small yellow paper bag under her arm Hermione entered the Three Broomsticks. Cho and Harry were already there keeping seats around a small round table by the window. As usual the low ceilinged room was dark, noisy, smoky and crowded. Hermione waded through the throng to reach her friends.

"Justin not here yet?" Hermione asked, though the answer was quite obvious. "Bunk up Harry," Hermione shuffled on to the padded seat that ran along the window placing her bags down beside her. From there she could see the street outside through the uneven panes, and the bar inside. Justin and Ernie could have the two spindly wooden chairs when they turned up.

"I'm so glad you two are talking again," said Cho from Harry's other side. She smiled and pushed a waiting Butterbeer in Hermione's direction, "He was such a pain moaning about it! I never thought someone like _you_ would go for Malfoy. He's not bad looking I suppose, if you go for the blonde silent type but…"

"Cho!" Harry sounded shocked.

"Well he is," retorted Cho, taking a sip from her glass. "Harry actually thought he might be using an Unforgivable on you…"

"I'm afraid not," said Hermione, looking directly at the gap between Cho's eyebrows. Someone had once told her that it was the most polite place to look when you didn't quite feel able to make eye contact. "But she's right Harry, he is good looking, unfortunate really that there's not something nice beneath the surface."

"You're not the first Hermione," said Cho, sympathetically, "A similar thing happened to Orla Quirk last year, she was devastated. Apparently he was seeing Lisa Turpin behind her back. I don't know how he does it but you'd think that after that no-one would bother with him."

__

Any more notches on your broomstick I should know about, Malfoy? Hermione was beginning to wonder if there was any female in the school he hadn't been involved with. _What was he trying to prove?_

Cho wrapped her arm around Harry who was looking deeply unimpressed with the direction the converstaion had taken. Cho hugged him, "Stop looking so sulky, he's no competition for you," then she grinned and turned back to Hermione, "I'm just pleased you've ended up with Justin, he's such a sweety!"

__

True, thought Hermione, _but a little dull don't you think?_

"Yes, he is," Hermione agreed, wishing that she and Justin had the tiniest spark. Like Victor he was nice enough but again there was just no ooomph! Justin behaved rather like a boisterous kid and Hermione didn't really feel like being anyone's mother, quite the opposite in fact. Plus, the only thing that Hermione could find that she had in common with Justin was the fact that they were both Muggle born and that they had both been petrified by a basilisk; not much to build a relationship on. Everything with Justin was rather forced and passionless, as if she were kissing a brother. Hermione shuddered.

"You okay Hermione?" asked Harry who seemed to be regarding her oddly.

"Just a draught," Hermione smiled, "It went right down my neck," 

Through the rippled window Hermione saw a tall and familiar figure. Hermione sipped her drink thinking of the conversation she'd had with Ernie and Justin on the way to Hogsmeade that morning. _Malfoy is another person who's never really been young,_ she thought watching as he shared some joke with his friends, as he bared his teeth in a grin and clapped one of his friends on the back. Under the table Hermione crossed her fingers hoping that they would pass by, but no. One of the stooges was already reaching toward the door. _Great,_ Hermione thought as Draco Malfoy entered the room.

Pale grey eyes flicked in her direction and rested for just a moment too long before moving on. Had he seen her watching? Hermione turned her head a little more toward the window and began to talk pointedly to Harry. But In the small windowpanes she could see multiple reflections of Malfoy and his friends leaning against the bar talking. Every now and then he looked her way.

"Listen, Hermione," said Harry looking uncertainly toward the bar, "I know Justin isn't here yet but we're meant to be meeting Ron at the Post Office. Do you want us to wait?"

Hermione tapped a fingernail on the side of her glass. "Off you go. Stop worrying." Hermione said while under the table she was already reaching for her wand, "He's not a problem."

Harry seemed reluctant to leave her in the same room as Malfoy but eventually Hermione persuaded them to go. Alone at the table in the window Hermione tucked one leg beneath her and turned slightly to watch Harry and Cho walk down the street. It warmed her to see Harry constantly glance back in the direction of the Three Broomsticks. 

__

At least someone's bothered about me, Hermione thought, with a sigh, _Where are you, Justin?_

Despite what she had told Harry, Hermione wasn't actually that confident about being left alone with Malfoy and his friends both of whom were built like brick outhouses. Hermione knew that if Harry had any idea what Malfoy had been doing recently he would never have left her there; but Hermione hadn't told anyone, that would mean admitting that it was over. Hermione continued to look out of the window until:

"Are these seats taken?" enquired a low smooth voice. Hermione couldn't ignore it. She turned. 

Malfoy leaned over slightly; one hand lay flat on the wooden tabletop. Crabbe and Goyle stood a little way behind him and Hermione thought that they looked rather like a pair of very solid bookends. Draco's pale eyes sparkled, Hermione fancied that she could read his mind; he knew she wouldn't make a fuss, he knew that she … don't even think that. Hermione scolded herself.

"They're taken," Hermione replied, watching a bubble creep its way up the inside of her glass and burst as it reached the surface.

"I must say," said Draco, slipping into the chair opposite, "That your friends are looking a bit insubstantial today."

"Are you deaf?" said Hermione raising her voice slightly.

"Pardon?" asked Draco, coyly.

"How original!"

"I think you're being very unreasonable Hermione. Oh, sorry, _Herm_." he dropped his voice to a whisper, "Live dangerously for once and have a Butterbeer with me. Crabbe's just off to the bar." Draco turned his head and smiled at Crabbe who looked oddly at Goyle; they both moved away without a word.

Hermione remembered the last time she'd had a drink with Draco Malfoy; the same teasing light had glowed in his eyes then and she had been sucked right in. But not this time. Not again.

"It's Hermione!" she snapped.

"Herm is a special privilege is it?" said Draco, sourly. "Sounds dreadful if you ask me."

"No-one did."

"Where's that big prat Finch-Fletchley anyway? If you were mine I wouldn't leave you lying around like this. There are some very untrustworthy people about these days."

"So I noticed," Hermione really didn't like the way that Malfoy spoke of her as an object, too long with him and a girl would probably find herself locked in a cupboard! Why couldn't he just take a hint? It wasn't as though she was being paricularly subtle about it. "I don't want to talk to you, drink with you or even breath the same air as you, Malfoy." Hermione's free hand tightened round her glass, which was almost empty.

"Don't be so obtuse, Hermione," Draco said, sounding bored. He rested his chin on the palm of his hand and leaned forward, "I know exactly what you want, and so do you. You're just too pigheaded to admit it. Why don't you save us both a lot of bother and talk to me?"

"Which part of bugger off don't you understand?" Hermione breathed, wondering if she should just go. But if she stayed there were at least other people around. If she left the Three Broomsticks he might follow and Draco had his friends with him. There wasn't much that Hermione could do against the three of them.

Draco chuckled. "I understand the words. But, Hermione, you just smiled at me with your eyes…"

Hermione could feel the blood flooding her cheeks_. I did not, I did not, I did not, _she told herself. The hand that gripped her wand was sweaty and holding it there unseen was becoming awkward. _Go away_, she screamed inside, _go away_.

"… sooner or later you'll realise that I'm right. It'll be much easier if you admit it now."

"Go away, Draco!" warned Hermione.

"Or what? You going to AK me with that wand you're holding under the table?"

"Just get lost…" _How the hell did he know about the wand?_ Hermione was running out of things to say. Draco was doing it again; twisting everything, trying to provoke her. Hermione was determined not to fall for it, otherwise they'd argue and he'd win; he always did. 

__

At last, you stupid idiot! Hermione thought as she caught a glimpse of Justin through the window. Hermione blinked slowly then she smiled broadly and waved.

"Hi Justin, Hi Ernie!" she called giving Malfoy the most hate filled look she could manage as the Hufflepuffs picked their way through the crowd. Hermione was thoroughly glad to see them.

"Sorry we're late Herm," began Justin, "got held up at … oh, Hallo Malfoy."

Draco's jaw tightened and he got to his feet. "Finch-Fletchley, how nice to see you," he said in a voice that implied no pleasure whatsoever. 

Justin was a good three inches taller than Draco's lean six foot. Hermione watched as something far deeper than hate rippled across Draco's face as he looked Justin over. Whatever else he might be, Hermione knew that Draco wasn't stupid; there are simply some people that no-one ever makes an attempt to bully or control, and Justin was one of those people.

"I'll see you round, _Herm_." said Malfoy, through a thin smile, then he went to join his friends at the bar. 

"Was he bothering you?" asked Justin, concerned as he took a seat beside Hermione.

"Nah," said Hermione slipping her wand unnoticed into her bag. "He was just trying to be funny."

"Didn't look very funny!" remarked Ernie, "What happened to Harry and Cho?"

"They had to meet Ron."

"Wasn't he with them?" 

Hermione shook her head and snuggled up next to Justin hoping that she looked perfectly contented.

It wasn't long before Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle left the Three Broomsticks.

~0~

"How was Hermione?" asked Ron quietly, as Harry and Cho arrived. He was sitting on a wooden bench outside the Post Office mutilating what had once been a crocus, "Oh, and Justin?"

"Justin didn't show up," said Cho, who Ron noticed, glanced oddly at Harry, "We left her at the Three Broomsticks."

"She practically pushed us out of the door," said Harry, "I think she was just trying to show Malfoy that she doesn't care." 

Ron leapt to his feet; "Malfoy was there? And you left her?" Ron bristled.

"She insisted." Said Harry in his defence.

"Where the hell was Justin? Why'd he leave her alone with someone like Malfoy about?"

"Hermione wants to take care of herself, Ron." said Harry, sensibly.

"After what that snot rag has done I wouldn't let her out of my sight if she…" Ron fumed, then before either Harry or Cho had a chance to work out what he was doing Ron ran in the direction of the Three Broomsticks. Ron could hear his friends following, their feet clattered off the cobblestone's and he could hear them shouting:

"Ron, leave it!" 

"Come back!" 

But Ron didn't want to hear it, he didn't want to be sensible. Ron was determined not to let Malfoy do it again, he was going to rip Malfoy's head off if he so much as said a word to Hermione. If Hermione didn't like it and wouldn't speak to him again? Well, it didn't really matter, she would be safe and that was what mattered to Ron; Hermione wasn't speaking to him anyway so he really had nothing to lose.

Ron flung open the door of the Three Broomsticks so hard that it slammed into the wall, startling an old witch who dropped her sherry. He charged inside but saw no Malfoy. Ron did see a hundred pairs of eyes turn on him, their owners wondering who was making such a commotion and he saw Hermione looking relaxed and happy leaning comfortably against Justin-Finch Fletchley.

"Sorry," Ron mumbled to the witch who was now mopping liquid from her cloak, she scowled at Ron as he backed out of the door.

Ron leaned heavily against the the wall outside.

"Cheer up, sonny. It might never happen," commented an irritatingly cheerful stranger. Ron supposed that the man's only reason for existance was to make him feel worse. 

"It already did!" Ron muttered sadly in reply, "It already did."

__

~Fin~

In **_Part Ten: Unity _**tempers fray, arguements abound and Draco takes a shower; yum;)

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Authors Notes

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Thank you, thank you, thank you! I've never had so many reviews for one chapter of anything; I'm feeling quite overwhelmed by the support you guys are givng me (No, please don't stop).

If you're not yet on my update list and would like to be, send a note to seeker@slytherindungeon.net or hyria@yahoo.com 

Chapter One has been extensively updated. Since it has grown in to rather a monster (TdF was originally meant to be two parts) I thought I needed slightly firmer foundation to write on. Nothing has been taken away, just several things slipped in that might prove useful later;). I'm also thinking about changing the title. Any thoughts?

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Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans to the Betas (with all the nasty ones removed); **Bumblebee **who has done the impossible and made me undertand not only where commas should go, but why they go there, **Squin** who caused a fit of the giggles for implying that my other half might just be a nutter and **Daphne** for once again casting her beady eye over my pages.

That _was_ a short one, wasn't it? Imagine what 60k of Justin and Ernie would have been like! Anyone else think that they're a right pair of muppets? 

Enough waffle from she of the increasingly long and illiterate authors notes. 

Cheerio 

~_Incitata~_


	10. Unity

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.

Dedicated to **Squin** who for some reason likes fluffy towels … hmmm!

**__**

Transi de Froid

By **Incitata**

Part Ten: Unity

"Ever fallen in love

In love with someone

You shouldn't've fallen in love with"

Singles Going Steady. Buzzcocks. 1979.

~0~

Pretending to like Justin Finch-Fletchley was much harder than pretending not to love Draco Malfoy. Hermione found it a chore to even talk to Justin. At least when she'd been alone with Malfoy he'd kept her interested, though she wasn't sure how. It could have been because of his merciless teasing, or his self confessed mission to corrupt her until she started to enjoy his company, or even just because he actually was an interesting person who knew what he was talking about … Hermione didn't know, but whatever it was she found it more intriguing than hearing about Justin's mother's goldfish. This, of course, was one of the reasons Hermione was going to such lengths to avoid talking to Draco. 

Malfoy, for all his faults, (which Hermione had listed, torn up and burned), was fascinating from the soles of his feet right to the end of his rather pointed nose. Even now, as he pursued her with a determination and a passion that frightened her, Hermione wanted to know more; she felt unable to tell anyone what he was doing because that would mean that it would end.

Hermione watched from the corner of her eye as, in ones and two's, the Gryffindors drifted down to dinner. She shooed Lavender away when she tried to make her move from the deep armchair where Hermione sat with her legs curled up beneath her, a large book laying against her thigh on which rested a piece of parchment. Hermione appeared to be writing notes but actually she was staring into the flickering orange flames of the fire and letting her quill wander in random strokes and swirls – Hermione's thoughts seemed as blurred as her vision.

Way back at the start of term when Hermione had told Ron that she didn't have time for relationships she hadn't _really_ meant it. She'd have found time for Ron if he'd asked but it seemed he didn't want her time. Then came Draco who had taken Ron out of her life forever. No wonder Ron didn't want to be her friend, it was easy to blame Draco for this mess – Draco bloody Malfoy with his inconsiderate plans and his very persuasive words. 

Even here he wouldn't leave her alone. Hermione looked at the quill she was using; it was that same feather that he had given her when he broke hers on the way to Herbology, "Keep it, it matches your eyes," he'd said another time when she tried to give it back. The nib flashed in the firelight. Hermione didn't know why she still used it but it wrote so smoothly and…

Hermione heard the scuffing of feet on the stairs but didn't look up.

"If you look at it from this angle it looks like Professor Grubbly-Plank," said a familiar voice. Hermione raised her head and saw Ron standing by the side of her chair chewing the inside of his lip and looking ready to bolt in case she bit him.

"Hello, Ron," she said quietly, looking down at the trail of ink on her page and squinting, but she couldn't see Grubbly-Plank anywhere.

"Are you coming to dinner?" Ron asked awkwardly. This was understandable as it was the first civil thing he'd said to Hermione in weeks.

Hermione shook her head and muttered, "Not hungry, I'll get something from the kitchens later."

"It's just that you haven't been there all weekend," Ron continued, "and I've got no-one to scowl at!" Ron raised both eyebrows and attempted a smile. Hermione wondered if this could possibly be a peace offering. Harry had been trying to get Hermione to go down to the Great Hall since Friday, but Malfoy kept looking at her and Justin kept talking to her and Ron kept glaring at her and … and she just couldn't face it all. Maybe Harry had thought Ron would have more success? Hermione couldn't help but laugh as Ron's expression flicked from hopeful to apprehensive and back again.

They didn't say much as they made their way down from Gryffindor tower, but for the first time in over a month Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down to dinner together. It was almost normal. To Hermione's relief Ron seemed happy enough when Justin came over and put his arm round her. Justin whispered "Can you meet me later?" in her ear, and though she could have sworn that she saw Ron pull a face as she nodded in reply, she dismissed it as her imagination. Hermione didn't want to stir all that up again.

Half way through the meal Hermione wished that she could slip under the table and hide as Malfoy came near. He was alone, he never tormented her when his own friends were near; that was _another_ thing that Hermione didn't understand. This time there was nothing he could do, this time she had her friends with her and Hermione hoped that Malfoy was utterly annoyed because he'd tried so very hard to separate them and failed. Hermione tightened her grip on her fork and glanced across the table at Harry then sideways at Ron. Malfoy stopped right at the end of the table with his arms folded just watching them.

"Did you want something?" asked Harry, clearly unable to ignore him for any longer. 

"Nothing at all," Draco smirked and stared directly at Hermione who was chewing a mouthful of roast lamb very slowly and avoiding raising her eyes from the polished side of her goblet. She could see more than enough of Malfoy in the distorted reflection; it warped and dimmed his eyes so that they lost their power to sting.

"I thought _you_ were watching your figure," he said, nastily. Hermione knew that voice, it was reserved for her when he wished to rile her; she stabbed the tines of her fork into a parsnip so hard that they scraped along her dinner plate but she continued to ignore him. 

"You'll have to watch out or you'll start to look like his podgy little sister!" From the corner of her eye Hermione saw Draco jerk his thumb at Ron who looked just about ready to pop.

"Ron, don't!" Hermione dropped her fork and grabbed Ron who was already half way to his feet. She pulled him back into his chair and, still hanging heavily onto his arm, turned on Malfoy and hissed, "Sod off, you nasty piece of shit!"

"Whatever you say, Granger." Without another word, Malfoy turned and stalked back to his own table.

"Would you believe that!" said Harry furious. 

"Just like old times!" said Ron dryly, his eyes not leaving Malfoy's retreating back.

"Great to be back," Hermione agreed.

~0~

Every time Hermione and Justin parted he gazed expectantly into her eyes and every time she would say "G'night Justin", before kissing him briefly and scurrying off to her dormitory. 

Justin always seemed to want to meet in places familiar to him, like the Trophy Room, the Great Hall or down in the dungeons not far from his common room. It was rare for Justin to venture any nearer to Hermione's common room than the library. It suited Hermione in some ways to meet him down here by a bronze fountain shaped like a boar that gushed clear water out of its snout and over its tusks. That way Justin never really became part of her life and besides, Hermione never knew who she might see in the dungeon corridors. 

Disappointment was there again as Hermione waved goodbye. _'Why can't I just be happy? Justin's nice and kind and considerate… when he remembers to be…'_ she thought. Hermione sat on the damp rim of the fountain and listened to his footsteps fade into the darkness. Soon, the only sound was the trickling of the water, hollow and cold: exactly how she felt. There was no danger of Justin doing anything spontaneous like trying to scare her to death, or flying up to the window of her dormitory, or following her when she'd said that she wasn't interested. No, Justin would simply listen to her and then do exactly as she asked. But then again, Justin had all the charisma of a paper bag and a sense of fun to match.

As Hermione trailed her hand in the ice-cold water she caught sight of her watch, it was very late. She jumped to her feet wiping her wet hand on her robes as she started off down the corridor. Hermione thought that she knew the way quite well but something must have distracted her because her concentration drifted and Hermione took a wrong turning among the narrow torchlit corridors that all looked the same to her. 

Very quickly Hermione's knowledge of where she was reduced to 'somewhere under Hogwarts.'

Sometimes the stairs and corridors of Hogwarts were helpful, but not tonight. Tonight they seemed to be having great fun switching round their ends and turns when Hermione wasn't looking. '_I could wander down here forever'_, she thought, wondering if she should try to retrace her steps to the Bronze Boar and start again. Hermione tried, but it only got her more lost. Should she call for help or just walk and hope that someone would find her?

"You've walked down here four times, Hermione," Malfoy's mocking voice echoed off the low ceiling of the dark corridor. Hermione turned slowly and saw him outlined against a shadowy doorway. "Oh, I wasn't following you, if that's what you're worried about. I was on my way to my dormitory and there you were, brooding and pensive, muttering beneath your breath about being lost forever," he paused as though he expected her to say something and when Hermione did not, he continued, "Did you know you've been walking in circles? That corridor doesn't lead anywhere. We send disorientated first years down there until they learn to have a bit more sense than to get lost in the first place! I think the record's eighteen hours … I've been here, watching you pass by again and again. Didn't I once tell you, Hermione, that you ought to watch where you're going?"

"Alright, Malfoy," said Hermione testily, aware that she was in no position to argue, "Have a good laugh, then tell me the way out."

"Where are your pals?" Malfoy braced his hands against the doorframe, level with his head as if he were supporting the walls. He was resting his weight on one leg and leaning forward slightly. In the flickering torchlight he made Hermione think of an exquisitely carved gargoyle; she half expected him to have fangs as he opened his mouth to continue in a breathy sarcastic tone. "You lot seem to be awfully chummy again. Forgiven them have you?" 

"_They _didn't do anything to me, _you_ did." Hermione realised that she was waving her finger right under his nose and slowly she lowered it to her side trying not to meet Draco's eyes.

"What are you doing down here anyway?" he asked, seemingly unaware of her discomfort.

"I just left Justin." Hermione fiddled with a strand of hair that was tickling her cheek.

"Left him?" Draco asked sharply.

"Said goodnight," Hermione corrected and tucked her hair out of the way behind her ear. Was it her imagination or did Draco…? Hermione dearly wished there was someone else she could ask for help, but, unfortunately, there wasn't. "Can you tell me the way out? …_Please_."

"I can _show_ you." Draco extended his arm and bowed, like an old fashioned gentleman about to lead a lady to dance. Hermione felt cold and she stood there glaring at him. She wasn't going to do it. Hermione folded her arms and began to turn away but his words brought her back, "Now, now, either take my arm or spend the whole night wandering round. Filch is not far off … I'm sure he'll give you directions, or detention."

Malfoy had a point.

Stiffly, Hermione took Draco's arm. "That's better," he said, through a breath before setting of at an easy pace, "It's really quite inconsiderate of Fink-Letchley making you walk all the way home by yourself. Doesn't believe in taking risks, does he? Prefers to let _you_ contend with Mrs Norris."

Hermione didn't bother to correct him as she watched their feet fall in time with one another. She agreed with Malfoy's accusation but Hermione wasn't about to let him know it. "Do you really think insulting my friends is going to impress me?" she asked keeping her eyes on the floor.

"Just one question, Hermione," said Draco quietly, conveniently ignoring her question, "If you can forgive Potter and Weasley, why can't you forgive me?"

Hermione whirled round, tearing her hand away from his arm; "The fact that you even have to ask should be answer enough!" 

Malfoy's seemed torn between several emotions, his face twisted oddly as though he were trying to stop it from doing something. Hermione feared for one moment that he might grab her as he had when he followed her to the Transfiguration classroom and fling her against the wall, but he simply smiled, stopped moving and refused to take another step until she put her hand back on his arm.

"Better," he said, as Hermione gave in, "I was beginning to think that your parents taught you no manners whatsoever!" Hermione ground her teeth and didn't reply, her hand, clasped in the crook of his arm seemed determined to do things she didn't want it to do – like explore the curve of his arm through his clothes. She felt dreadful.

"I'm only trying to help," said Draco, softly as they turned into another identical and poorly lit corridor. "Now, I don't want to see you roaming around down here any more. I can give you detention for being out of your common room this late. In fact…"

"Don't you dare!" Hermione flared, "I can do the same to you!" Draco merely chuckled in a way that made Hermione want to kick him.

Draco pulled her round to face him, raised her hands to his lips and gently kissed her fingertips; he nodded, "Those are the stairs to the Entrance Hall, I think you know the way from here." 

~0~

"How dare he!" Hermione growled as she stomped up to the Gryffindor tower, "Just who the hell does he think he is?" 

The common room was silent apart from the crackling embers of the fire and the low hum of a wireless. Hermione picked it up and turned it off. Since her parents had given her a Wizarding Wireless for Christmas it had become rather a fixture of the Gryffindor common room; Hermione just wished that Parvati would put it back when she'd finished listening to _Knowing Nora's Angst Hour_. Resigned to the fact that it would find it's way back here anyway Hermione placed the wireless back on the mantelpiece and wearily climbed the stairs to her dormitory.

Without disturbing the other girls, Hermione slipped into bed. A sliver of moonlight slipped through a crack in the curtains, her eyes traced its line, bright against the dark canopy. She lay awake for a very long time because each time she closed her eyes a grinning image of Malfoy popped into her mind. Hermione didn't want any Malfoys in her head or in her life and as she couldn't sleep she lay back and formulated a plan to exorcise this one. 

Her fingers crept beneath her pillow and drew out a flat box bound in soft buttery dragonhide. Hermione extracted the snake which writhed between her fingers flashing its tiny emerald eyes as she held it by the tail above her head. No wonder he thought he still had a chance. Hermione would return it to Malfoy and if, after that, he continued to harass her then Hermione would go to Professor McGonagall and, after what he'd done, she might very well get him expelled. 

For some reason that thought made Hermione smile.

~0~

It was a very simple plan but, first, Hermione needed something.

Softly, she knocked on the door of the boys' dormitory. There was no one there. Hermione tried the handle and it opened, surely Harry wouldn't mind. She left the door ajar so that she could hear anyone approaching from below and quietly crept over to Harry's bed, stopping at the foot where his trunk lay. She opened the lock with her wand, easing open the lid and holding it steady with one hand and pulling out Harry's Invisibility Cloak with the other. She hoped he'd understand why she had borrowed it; she hoped he'd never find out. Gently she lowered the lid of the trunk and tucked the cloak beneath her robes. She listened at the door for footsteps before dashing back to her own dormitory.

__

'Where ever did you learn to be so devious?' Hermione asked herself, but feared that she knew the answer and she was about to get _him_ out of her life forever.

It was a Monday evening and the Slytherins had Quidditch practice. Draco had once told her that he tended to stay back later than the others to practice his flying - something about an aversion to having an audience to watch him fall flat on his face when he tried new moves. Hermione would wait unseen until their practice was over and when the rest of the Slytherin team made their way back to the castle, Hermione would give Malfoy back his things and tell him to get stuffed.

With Malfoy's quill and the box tucked within her robes Hermione covered herself with Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Taking great care not to make a noise or bump into anyone as she crossed the common room, Hermione positioned herself by the portrait hole. There were too many people around to open it herself so she had to wait. Hermione passed the time by glancing anxiously at her watch. Finally it opened and Hermione was able to slip out unnoticed before it closed.

Alone beneath the Invisibility Cloak Hermione experienced an unusual sense of freedom, a feeling that she could go anywhere and do anything, maybe that was why Harry and Ron were so keen on using it to go trailing round the school at night? She hoped that the delay in waiting by the portrait hole hadn't made her too late; she'd put this off for too long already. The light was already fading in the west as she reached the Quidditch pitch and there were no players to be seen. She searched the skies and peeped through the window of the broomshed. Still no sign. 

The door of the changing rooms was open. "I don't think so!" she muttered then as she hesitated a little voice reminded Hermione that no one could see her. She could slip in, leave the things, and slip out. Hermione pushed the door open a little wider, it creaked loudly and she stiffened but the noise of rushing water from within blocked the sound. Hermione glanced cautiously along the rows of empty pegs that stood above a low wooden bench. There was no one here. 

A sound drew Hermione down the long narrow changing room, a doorway at the end led into a large white chamber. On the other side there appeared to be another changing room in which a light flickered, maybe he would be in there. Gazing curiously around her she stepped into the massive tiled chamber. 

In the centre, just visible through a cloud of steam, Hermione could see a large brass ring from which was suspended a long white curtain. Just above the hoop an enormous round showerhead could be seen, water pouring from it with all the force of a high waterfall and every now and then a bubble floated over the top of the curtain and popped. It was a large room to house a single shower and Hermione supposed that new showers and curtains must appear according to however many people required to use them, no doubt with water of the ideal temperature. _'How very Hogwarts,'_ she thought.

Hoping that the noise of the water would muffle the damp slap of her footsteps Hermione skirted the edge of the room, taking care not to snag the cloak on any of the empty pegs that ran around the wall. Her eyes were fixed on the curtain just in case it should part and she should need to get away. She could see a shadow in there, fuzzy through the fabric, then, just as Hermione reached the far side of the room and was about to walk through the other door, she saw to her surprise that the curtain was not entirely drawn … 

A vivid memory of the statue of David outside the Palazzo Vecchio as she'd first seen it on a rainy day many years before flashed into Hermione's mind. She'd stood gazing at David's back, never before having seen anything so magnificent, as her parents tried to draw her back to the shelter of the colonnade of the Uffizi. Her breath caught in her throat, but this was Draco and Hermione thought _him_ even more beautiful than Michelangelo's colossal dream of perfection.

The water ran in a stream down his back, between two rounded buttocks and down long, toned legs to the floor. She saw his spine roll beneath his glistening skin, slick under the water. Hermione wanted to reach out and touch him, to see if he really had been carved from a piece of flawless white marble but shook herself, remembering that this was Draco and he was very much alive, moving and breathing and utterly unaware of her. 

Hermione bit her lip as he turned. Draco's eyes were closed and his face carried a faraway look. A smile just teased the corners of his lips as he lifted his head toward the shower; clear water spilling down and across his chin and shoulders, cascading to the floor. 

It was hard to breathe in the warm damp air. Hermione leaned back against the wall and pressed her hands against the tiled surface, which was cool even through the cloak. Not for the first time she wished that she could read Draco's mind. Her eyes travelled down his throat, his torso, waist and hips absorbing every detail knowing that she would never see him this way again. She almost reached out, wanting to run her fingers up his arm and down over the swell of his chest, she wanted to feel all the little muscles that covered his stomach tense beneath her caress. 

As Draco drew back his arms and flicked back his hair from his eyes Hermione gulped. For a moment she was sure he was looking directly at her, she almost screamed but remembered that she was wearing an invisibility cloak; he couldn't see her.

Reluctantly, and before she did anything rash, Hermione decided that she must move on. Draco's clothes must be through the door to her right. She would go in there, leave what she had come to return, and go. He'd understand her message easily enough. 

She took one step and then froze.

"Whatever are you doing here?" Draco was staring right at Hermione, wearing nothing but an expression of mild surprise.

Hermione was aghast. She glanced down at herself then at the Invisibility Cloak, which now dangled from a hook on the wall where only seconds ago she had been standing. 

The roar of water had now been replaced by a roar of blood in her ears. 

Should she run? 

Hermione didn't know where to look. She saw a single drip of water fall from the shower and land on Draco's shoulder; her eyes followed it as it slowly trickled all the way down his body.

"Could you pass me a towel?" he asked evidently having trouble keeping his face straight.

Too shocked to do anything but obey, Hermione reached behind her and lifted a white towel from a hook. She tossed it at Draco. He caught it and slowly wrapped the towel around his waist, apparently unconcerned by her presence.

Hermione's eyes followed every movement.

"Why are you looking so interested?" he asked with a chuckle, "There's nothing you haven't seen before." 

Hermione's mouth snapped closed and she tried desperately to find somewhere else to rest her gaze. "You weren't meant to see me!" she squealed covering her face with her hands, her legs felt weak, it was an effort not to slip down to the hard, damp floor.

Draco pulled his hand through his hair and looked as though he were trying very hard to remember something, "What was it you called me just the other week? Ah yes … a filthy, perverted, disgusting excuse for a…"

"That was different!" Hermione snapped, regaining a modicum of composure. 

"Oh, yes! My mistake entirely," he scratched his chin. "Following someone into a classroom because you want to apologise to them is _so_ much worse than voyeurism. I feel violated, Hermione. I'm absolutely horrified!" Actually, Hermione thought that he sounded anything but.

"You stalked me and attacked me!" she said anger gradually replacing confusion.

"I did not, I was defending myself from you!" That wasn't quite how Hermione remembered the incident in the Transfiguration classroom, but she was too embarrassed to argue at the moment. As Malfoy stared at her she felt as though she'd walked right into a cleverly baited trap, anything she could accuse him with was suddenly no longer credible. "Well," he demanded, "what did you want to say to me?"

"I'm not here to say anything." She dug deep into the pockets of her robes and her hands gripped what she sought, as she drew them out she added, "I'm here to give these back." Hermione threw the box and the quill at Malfoy. He caught the box but the quill landed on the wet floor; his eyes followed its skidding path for a second then he flicked open the box with his thumb and looked at its contents.

"Oh," said Draco coldly, looking rather as though an unseen hand had just punched him in the stomach. "And I thought it was my lucky day." Draco snapped the lid closed and with a flick of his wrist, chucked the box into the corner. He sighed oddly, "Oh well. Thanks! Run back to your perfect little life then, Hermione."

"What?" somehow Hermione had expected more.

"I've had enough." Draco sighed, his brow wrinkling, "I can only take being ignored for so long and, believe me, I've tried everything short of extreme violence to make you understand. You won! Congratulations. Now, if you don't mind I'd like to get dressed… _in private_."

"Is that all you've got say?" she asked unable to believe that he could dismiss her so coldly and so easily.

"Are you deaf?" he asked stifling a yawn.

"You don't want to know why?"

"Not really." Draco's eyes were hard and he stood with his arms folded across his chest, somehow maintaining an extraordinary amount of dignity for someone dressed only in a fluffy white towel that barely reached his knees. "I can quite live without knowing why someone hates my guts, it's enough for me to know that they do."

"Draco, you deceived me!" exclaimed Hermione, bursting with righteous indignation, "and if you hadn't accidentally fallen in love you would have let the whole school know it. You wanted to humiliate me!"

"You're not telling me anything I don't already know. I'm not going to waste my time on a lost cause," he rubbed the back of his neck as if it were stiff, "Hermione, it's actually a bit cold in here, so could you just get on with it?"

"Get on with what?" Hermione was counting the number of floortiles that lay between them.

"You came here to tell me that you don't love me, didn't you? Well, I'm waiting."

Her eyes reached his toes, straight and pale. She followed them up a pair of slightly bony feet, ankles, calves, knees, across the towel that covered his hips, up his torso, all the way to the damp and tousled hair that covered his head and his deliciously nibblable ears. _'Stop looking!' _Hermione mentally slapped herself. 

She caught a glimpse of ripple on his temple, a tiny pulse that was the only evidence that he was actually alive. Hermione's eyes swept over his face, his lips were twisted into a polite and expectant smile while his eyes wavered between wistful and worried. Hermione realised that it was she who was not breathing.

"I don't have all day," Draco's chest swelled as he sucked in a deep breath, then he walked straight past Hermione. 

"Draco!" she grabbed his arm to stop him then hastily let go as she remembered that it was _she_ who wanted _him _to leave her alone.

"What?" he turned on her, cold grey eyes revealing nothing, "You wanted to get rid of me didn't you?" Hermione jumped back.

"You can't brush me off like this!" she began but Draco was much closer to her than she'd realised, close enough to grab her arm and pull her sharply toward him.

His fingers dug deep into the flesh above her elbow, she would have cried out but she seemed to have forgotten how, "Tell me you don't love me, Hermione," he snarled, all pretence of indifference gone. "Tell me, right now, that you don't love me and I'll leave you alone!"

Hermione thought that he might continue to shake her until her eyes fell out. He was hurting her but Hermione couldn't tear herself away, not from his hands and not from his eyes that challenged and enraged her. Hermione wanted to say it just to hurt him, and she knew that it would, to get him back for what he had done, for being so bloody beautiful and for making her fall in love with him. She opened her mouth but…

"I can't," she said, her voice cracked and small.

Hermione felt herself being lifted toward him, pulled closer and closer until she thought he might crush her. "Don't ever do anything like that to me again," breathed Draco before he pressed his mouth to hers and pushed her back against the damp tiled wall. Hermione thought that she ought to fight and she tried to push him away, but his damp skin burned like ice beneath her palms and his hands were much too strong for her. Hermione found that her own hands slipped up through his hair, and down his back, somehow dislodging the towel on the way. It wasn't what she'd come here for, but she knew it was what she wanted and, breathing deeply, Hermione closed her eyes and gave in.

~0~

Much later Hermione walked with Draco back toward the school, Harry's invisibility cloak tucked under her arm and the little bracelet that Draco gave her once again coiled around her wrist. They stopped by the edge of the forest, just before the castle came into view.

"What did you mean when you said don't do anything like that again?" Hermione was curious.

"Finch-Fletchley!" replied Draco, as though he thought she was an idiot.

Hermione gasped as if remembering something. "What am I going to tell Justin?" 

"Don't tell him anything," suggested Draco, seriously, "He'll soon get the point. And if he doesn't, the moron will get it when _I_ tell him. Honestly, if I hadn't known what you were doing I'd have clobbered him for going near you, it really was tempting."

"If you hadn't known …?" Hermione suddenly grasped what Draco was saying.

"What you were doing?" Draco smirked, "Oh, I knew, not immediately of course, but you couldn't've been serious about that berk." Draco pulled Hermione close and she could feel his breath warm against her cheek as he spoke, "Don't try and play mind games with me, Hermione, you'll lose every time," he said, treating her to a wide, predatory grin. 

Hermione tried to pull back but Draco held her fast so she twisted her head to look up at him, "I have to tell Justin, _tonight_. But, Draco, could we not let anyone know?" Hermione didn't want to ruin the flimsy repairs to her friendship with Ron. Harry, she thought, might be able to bear the idea but Ron would fly off the handle again. "Would you mind not letting on, for now… I want to do things right this time and tell Harry and Ron first."

"Ashamed of me are you?" Draco let go of her and turned away, he appeared to be examining the trunk of the tree whose branches sheltered them.

Hermione frowned and spoke to his back, "I know I made such a fuss about being open and not sneaking around but…"

"Don't bother," said Draco softly, raising his hand to silence her, "I've given up trying to understand you … if that's what you want…"

Hermione nodded though she knew he couldn't see her. She assumed that he'd read the meaning of her silence.

"Okay," Draco released a long breath as he turned back to her. The last rays of light were fast fading and his faced was shadowed and dark. Hermione saw him step forward and allowed him to pull her across the damp ground and push her up against the trunk of the tree. He placed a hand at either side of her head; she could see them smooth and white against the dark ridged bark. Draco leant close and it was all Hermione could do not to arch forward and kiss him.

"I'll keep your secret, Hermione. Tell them when you wish. For now, I'd better leave you here," he pulled the Invisibility Cloak from beneath her arm and pushed it into her hands. "If we walk together half of the school will see. Follow me the same way you came. We'll arrange a way of…"

Again, Hermione nodded dumbly. She was fascinated by the way the twilight made his eyes glow and she marvelled at what it took to put a bit of colour in Draco's cheeks, the way his hair sometimes fell into his eyes, the way he always had to feel in control…

"Are you listening to me?" Draco asked affronted.

"Of course." Hermione blinked sheepishly, "I'll send you a message the usual way." Draco looked blank. 

"Whimsy!" cried Hermione, Draco still looked confused. "The House Elf!" she said exasperated. 

"Oh! I'll be waiting for it." Draco grinned wolfishly. Hermione felt him push her against the tree trunk a feeling of dizziness washing over her as he kissed her and she pulled him closer wanting to sink right into him and never be parted. Then she felt his hand disentangle her fingers from his hair and bring those same protesting fingers up to his lips. "I have to go," he said softly, "I'll be missed."

Draco stepped back, away from Hermione's outstretched hands, and turned. He strode out from beneath the tree, glancing back only once, then, from beneath the shade of the tree, she watched him walk back to the castle each step long and swift, robes billowing out behind him.

Through the leafless branches of the tree she watched the sky darken; she watched until the first star could be seen, she wasn't superstitious but Hermione made a wish anyway, stranger dreams had come true. 

Hermione draped Harry's Invisibility Cloak around her shoulders and pulled it over her head. She had to put it back. She didn't know where Harry was but surely he would miss the cloak if she didn't return it. 

She hurried back to the castle, and slipped the cloak back in Harry's trunk. Hermione could breath again, almost. On tiptoes Hermione crept to the door, opened it and as she stepped through.

"Hermione?"

"Oh, hi Neville," she said, thinking very quickly, "You seen Harry? he's not in there."

Her answer seemed to satisfy Neville, at least the questioning expression on his round face lifted into a smile, "Downstairs,"

"Thanks," _'that,'_ thought Hermione, _'was close.'_ as Neville went into his dormitory and shut the door.

__

'Normal, normal, normal,' Hermione told herself on the way down to the common room, '_nothing strange going on around here, it's not as if you're lying to them, you're giving them time to get used to the idea, normal, normal.'_

Hermione entered the common room and came up behind Harry and Ron to find them pouring over a huge scroll that depicted fourteen figures and an array of different coloured arrows pointed in every direction. _'Quidditch again…'_ she thought rolling her eyes.

"Very clear," she said sardonically. They turned and smiled thinly, obviously not appreciating her sarcasm. "I wanted to let you know, I'm going to talk to Justin."

"You're just a font of useful information aren't you?" said Ron a little harshly but Hermione didn't want to fall out with him again so she ignored it.

"I'm going to break up with him," she informed them, hoping that would make things a little clearer.

Ron seemed to perk up immediately, "Lovely evening for it," he said, "Always thought he was a bit of a prat."

"Ron," said Harry, "You're meant to wait until _afterwards_ before you say that sort of thing. Not planning on changing your mind are you, Herm?" The last word he said in a deep 'Justin' voice, Hermione hadn't known that Harry could do quite such a convincing impression.

"Definitely not changing my mind," and feeling that it might be worth emphasising the point to Ron she added, "I simply don't have time for a boyfriend."

Ron placed his hand behind his ear and cocked his head on one side, he appeared to be listening to something, "Is it just me or did half the human race just breath a sigh of relief?"

"Thanks, Ron," said Hermione.

"You look awfully pleased with yourself for someone who's about to break up with someone," remarked Harry.

"Oh well!" replied Hermione quickly before heading off to find Fink-Letchley. 

__

~Fin~

In** _Part Eleven: Chez Malfoi _**Hogsmeade, Apparition, Muggle cooked lunch and a rather nasty complication. Poor Hermione and Draco, will the course of true love ne'er run smooth …?

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Authors Notes

For updates on this fic please join http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Transi_de_Froid/ some people use it for discussion and if you do join and don't have a Neo-pet or dislike chatting about the appearance of Draco I suggest that you change your Delivery Options to 'Special Notices' immediately. 

Comments, suggestions, criticisms, huge piles of money, publishing contracts, send either to the list or to me seeker@slytherindungeon.net 

To my beta's **Bumblebee**, **Squin**, **Medea** and **Lexy** who are busily aiding me with the rewrite as well as making future chapters readable. THANK YOU!!!

****

Tamer_Gal _"All in all, this thing deserves a Nobel Prize for Literature!!!"_ I think that was such a lovely thing to say but JKR might be a _little_ upset:)

****

Sanna, I hope this makes you feel better about the Hr/D situation.

And to everyone else who keeps reading and reading I love you lots!

To my BF who has bruises owing to the number of times I've bounced plotlines off his head, thanks, but I'm a bit worried about your reaction to the shower scene! Is there something you're not telling me;)

/End copious and waffly ANs


	11. Chez Malfoi

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic. 

~~~~0~~~~

**__**

Part Eleven: Chez Malfoi

"In illusion, comfort lies"

Alice. Sisters of Mercy.

Some Girls Wander by Mistake

~0~

Hermione walked. Her 'chat' with Justin was swift, sharp and very uncomfortable; it left her feeling oddly dissatisfied. She thought it only fair to allow Justin a little dignity so she held back while he spoke, not even touching on the details of why. Afterwards rather than returning immediately to the Gryffindor Tower she wandered into the Great Hall and sat against the wall behind the staff table looking up at the starless ceiling. A scuttle of tiny claws drew her attention to a small rat whose shining eyes glanced her way before darting into the shadows. Hermione was wary of rats.

What was Draco doing now? Probably sleeping or relaxing. Hermione was quite sure that he wasn't roaming around the castle wondering what _she_ was doing. She sighed. Breaking up with Justin was one thing but committing herself to Draco was quite another, all sorts of questions that she preferred to ignore began to resurface. Why had she asked him to keep everything secret? Why couldn't she just be honest with her friends? Of course she already knew the answers. Her friends reacted badly in the first place not because she had lied to them but because he was who he was. 

Draco Malfoy represented things that Harry and Ron could never condone; he'd done things that they could never forgive. Hermione understood that. It was hard to see past the fact that he was the son of a Death Eater - '_Alleged Death Eater,'_ her conscience prodded_, 'nothing has ever been proven…' _But Harry's word had always been enough for Hermione, the man was a fervent supporter of someone who wanted to destroy him. 

For Ron it was no less personal but Hermione suspected that he also hated Malfoy because Draco stood for everything he didn't have, like money and influence. She also thought that they were much more alike than either realised. Both were enormously proud of their families, jealous, stubborn, neither of them liked to take life too seriously and she loved them both.

The strange thing was that Hermione would rather lie to her friends than hurt them all over again. It hadn't been difficult to work out why they had forgiven her the first time; she was a victim and deserved their pity. She didn't think their forgiveness would come so easily a second time…and sooner or later they _would_ find out. 

No matter how tempting it was Hermione couldn't sit there all night and by the time she stood she was stiff and cold. She rubbed her shoulders trying to put some life back into her neck as she traipsed back to the tower.

In the common room a lamp still burned, bright and warm and to Hermione's surprise, Harry and Ron sat in the pool it cast over the table. Their heads turned sharply toward the portrait hole as she entered.

"Did you do it?" asked Harry expectantly moving toward her. Hermione assumed that she must not look quite as cheerful as she had when she left because he seemed concerned. She sat on Harry's chair and leaned heavily on the table with her arms folded.

"No," she replied sinking a bit lower, dimly aware of the papers crumpling beneath her arms.

"No?" asked Ron, "Why not?"

Hermione sat up; "Justin got in first. He dumped _me_!"

Ron gasped, "How could he? Why'd he want to do a thing like that?"

"The usual, oh it's not you it's me, I'm really sorry but your best friends attract too much untoward attention from Dark Lords and their minions, oh well see you around, Herm!"

"Git!" spat Ron, "What an idiot!"

"He was just looking for excuses." Hermione didn't know if she could say what she was about to but she thought she'd better try. She sniffed loudly and tried not to look at Ron, who leaned close to her, "and there are still rumours … about what happened over Christmas … with Malfoy. Apparently Justin got a bit sick of being asked if I'd…"

"No!" exclaimed Ron in disbelief.

Harry took a seat opposite and looked questioningly at Hermione. "What exactly did happen with Malfoy?" he enquired trying to sound casual.

"Harry." Ron warned. 

Either Ron was making a supreme effort to be reasonable, or he just didn't want to know. Whichever it was Hermione felt uncomfortable. She chewed her thumbnail and dared a glance at Ron unable to risk looking at Harry whose bright green eyes flashed dangerously or was that just the reflection of the lamplight off his glasses?

__

'Don't ask that,' Hermione thought lowering her gaze, _'Please don't make me answer that question.'_

"It's just the rumours…" Harry continued trying to catch Hermione's eye.

"Nobody's interested!" Ron turned to Hermione, "No-one who knows you cares about that, it's rubbish. It wasn't your fault, Hermione. I know I behaved like a prat over it, but it doesn't matter…" 

__

'How can you defend me? You don't know what I've done, what I'm doing…' What would she have said to Harry if Ron hadn't rescued her?

With a great sob Hermione slumped down on to the table, she couldn't help but cry. What had it taken Ron to say that? He'd been talking to her for barely a day and when she thought how much it must hurt him to even think … and her friends thought that she was upset over Justin.

She was a liar, a betrayer of friendships, unfaithful, deceitful. When Hermione was with Draco none of that seemed to matter but now that she was alone … she just couldn't tell them, she had to let them think it was all about Justin, at least until she was strong enough to lose them. 

When she felt kind hands patting her trembling shoulders, voices whispering words of comfort she truly hated herself, she was despicable and didn't deserve friends as good as these, she didn't really deserve any friends at all.

As Hermione raised her head and looked down at the table, she picked up one of the sheets of parchment she had lain on. "Oh," she said weakly, looking at the smeared and running inks. "I've made your plans all wet!"

"They were fairly wet anyway," said Harry taking the paper and dropping it on the floor, "We can redraw them."

"Yeah, help us come up with a new strategy," said Ron reaching out to smooth her hair away from her eyes, "forget it's Quidditch and pretend it's a timetable or something and don't forget that it will help get a bit of revenge on our least favourite houses!"

"Hous-_es_?" asked Harry.

"Slytherin and Hufflepuff," explained Ron, "Home to the two biggest bastards Hogwarts has seen since … well since forever."

Hermione wanted to throw her arms round the pair of them but she just sat looking down at her hands not bothering to wipe away her tears. If only she could make them understand, Harry, Ron _and_ Draco. 

"Hermione," said Ron softly as the trio parted on the stairs to the dormitories, "If you change your mind, tell me."

"About what?" she asked then she realised, boyfriends. "Oh!" Hermione threw her arms around Ron and burst into tears again. She dashed up the stairs leaving a bewildered Weasley staring after her.

~0~

For Hermione and Draco Arithmancy had become something of a battleground, heated debate became the closest they came to public acknowledgement of their involvement as each tried to outdo the other in a flowing exchange of words and theories that delighted Professor Vector.

"I don't know when I least heard such an eloquent defence of Paracelsus, Mr Malfoy," said the teacher, hands clasped together in glee. "But won't you agree that Miss Granger has a point with regard to the role of time and number in the formation of _homunculi?_ Though a notable alchemist, his claims have been refuted."

"I concede no such thing, Dee's more recent work does not entirely condemn, it merely suggests that particular hypothesis endures only due to lack of understanding of the true value of…" and so it went on.

It both surprised and pleased Hermione to find that Draco was very much her intellectual equal and that what came over as contempt and disinterest was merely the manifestation of a lack of motivation. She'd never thought that he was stupid; the fact that Draco scored only slightly less than she each year told her that but he now revealed a prodigious knowledge of magic that so far Hermione had barely touched upon. Even if his interests did lean slightly towards the dark it made a change to be able to talk with someone who didn't yawn the moment the word textbook or library was uttered. But what really startled Hermione was that when Draco chose to apply himself he was truly brilliant. She wondered why he hadn't bothered before but perhaps in his mind competing with a _Mudblood_ wasn't motivating enough but competing with a _lover_…?

Other lessons were not so enjoyable. Draco gave Hermione new reasons to dread Potions. It amused him to pick on Ron and Harry then sit back and watch Hermione struggle as he tested her divided loyalties. She couldn't attack him and couldn't defend him and he knew it. She was left with no choice but to leave Harry and Ron to cope with the taunts. Hermione begged Draco to stop but he simply shook his head and replied, "You brought it on yourself. When you concede to acknowledge me I will stop, not before."

Hermione found herself unable to argue with that.

~0~

Drrrrm, Drrrrm, Drrrrm.

Drrrrm, Drrrrm, Drrrrm.

"Will you stop doing that!" Hermione whispered across the top of _1001 Magical Herbs and Fungi_ which was propped up against her inkpot. Draco raised his eyebrows as if to say 'Me? What was I doing?' He lounged with one arm hooked over the back of his chair, his legs taking up enough space for two; his other hand rested on the desk. 

Hermione wasn't the only person who was giving him a nasty look right now. Madam Pince was nearby and the library was very crowded. It always was at this time of day, which is why they met here. They sat at one end of a long desk near the door with plenty of other students around all trying to complete assignments that should have been done earlier in the term. To the casual observer their proximity wouldn't appear odd; there were few other free seats. Well, Ron would question it, but the likelihood of him turning up in the library of his own free will was very low.

Drrrrm, Drrrrm, Drr…

"I'm bored," Draco complained halting his fingers mid-drum.

"What do you want me to do about it?" whispered Hermione putting down her quill, "Dance?"

"That might be interesting," he replied thoughtfully turning to face her, "Can't we just go somewhere else?"

"No."

Drrrrm, Drrrrm, Drrrrm.

"You're really annoying everyone," said Hermione as the girl at her right piled her things together and moved to a vacant desk elsewhere. 

"Thought she'd never go," he drawled swivelling his eyes back to Hermione. "I don't think she likes me."

"You were doing that just to get Orla to move?" from what Cho had said Hermione thought Orla Quirk was rather brave for sitting near Draco in the first place.

He nodded adding, "And to annoy you!" 

Draco pushed a small roll of parchment across the table. "It's the last Hogsmeade weekend before Easter," he whispered, "I'd like you to do me a favour."

Hermione reached for the parchment and twisted it slowly, she was about to unroll it but Draco plucked the scroll from between her fingers and placed it back on the desk between them.

"First you agree," he gave a feral smile over steepled fingers, "then you can look."

There was no way that Hermione was going to agree to anything without first knowing what it was. Agreeing to do something for Draco without knowing the terms was about as sensible as drinking from a selection of unlabelled bottles in a Potions lab. Hermione might love Draco but she wasn't entirely stupid.

"Come on," he goaded, reaching under the table and grabbing her ankle. He placed it in his lap.

"Draco!" Hermione breathed, feeling his fingers slip beneath her sock. She glanced around in alarm but no one else in the library seemed to have noticed. Draco leaned forward so his chin was almost resting on the desk as he ran his hands further and further up Hermione's leg, he was almost at her knee. She squirmed, "Not here, they'll see you!"

"I don't want much," he said slowly, his eyes filled with humour, "And if you don't answer me now, I will tickle the back of your leg."

With her foot wedged between his knees Hermione couldn't get away; she tried to free herself but only succeeded in slipping a little lower in her chair and allowing him to get a better grip. A muffled squeak burst from her lips as he carried out his threat. "Okay!" she agreed embarrassed by the looks she was attracting. "I'll do it!"

"Without knowing what _it_ is?" he asked slyly.

"I reserve the right to change my mind … woman's prerogative." Hermione could still feel his long fingers firmly gripping her calf and his other hand trailing slowly back down to her ankle.

Draco chuckled softly, "Go on, Hermione. It'll be fun…"

Just to make him stop Hermione agreed.

"Good," Draco grinned in triumph. "Now you can read that." He released her foot then flicked the scroll into her lap.

Straightening in her chair Hermione unrolled the long strip of parchment, on it were written a series of instructions, she lifted her eyes to his. 

"Is this some sort of spell?" she asked, curious.

"Just learn it by Saturday. Don't actually try it, but learn the method, understand?"

"And that's all you want from me?"

"For now," Draco raised an eyebrow and began to stack his things in a pile, "Would you mind looking after these for me? I'm a bit late."

"Aren't you meant to carry _my_ books?" Hermione asked without lifting her eyes from the slip of parchment, even secret boyfriends three weeks into a relationship had certain functions to fulfil.

"Yes, but you're not going anywhere, _I_ am." he got to his feet and came round to Hermione's side of the desk then leaned over to whisper in her ear. "I have a Transfiguration class, you wouldn't want me to be late for Professor McGonagonagonagonagonall, would you?"

"Do you have to do that?"

"I didn't do anything," said Draco innocently.

"You have a serious problem with authority, Malfoy. No one's actually that impressed when you make fun of the teachers, especially not me!"

"You're beginning to sound like my father!" Draco leaned his hip on the corner of the table; he didn't seem to be in any hurry to get to Transfiguration. He tilted his head contemplatively as he looked down at Hermione, "Let me see, you always think you're right, you sometimes adopt the most infuriatingly patronising tone, you never ever miss an opportunity to hear to the sound of your own voice…" he ticked each point against a different finger. "You sure we're not related?"

"You have a sick mind, Malfoy." Hermione replied not finding his comparison at all amusing, "As far as I heard you just described yourself, except you missed out egotistical, intolerant and arrogant!" under the table Hermione kicked Draco sharply on the shin, "Didn't you have to go to class?"

"Oh yes," he added as he straightened, "and you can never think of a good word to say about me. I'll be back in an hour," he added, "Cheerio!"

That was Monday.

~0~ 

By the time Saturday came Hermione was beginning to regret the agreement she'd made with Malfoy. That's the way she thought of him when he wasn't with her, it enabled her to disassociate the Malfoy who baited her friends from the Draco she adored. 

Over a breakfast of scrambled eggs Hermione ran through excuse after excuse in her mind barely listening to the conversation going on around her. How could she avoid going to Hogsmeade with Ron and Harry? 

When Harry asked, "You coming today?" the perfect reason pushed itself straight to the front of Hermione's mind, she wasn't sure how she'd missed it earlier.

"I've been asked to help supervise the first and second years," she said, which was true. Hermione neglected to add that she'd already told Professor McGonagall that she wasn't available.

"Oh, bad luck, Hermione!" said Harry spearing a sausage on the end of his fork, "You staying too?" he asked Seamus, the other sixth year Prefect.

"Nah, I got out of it. Close thing too!"

As soon as Harry and Ron left the common room Hermione darted up to her dormitory, threw a few things in her bag and wrapped her cloak around her shoulders. It was March and a cold wind still blew down the streets of Hogsmeade. She looked again at Malfoy's parchment. Hermione had tried to work out exactly which spell was on there but nothing in Hogwarts library available to the students seemed to explain it. The thing that came closest was a spell for transporting small objects from one room to another but that wasn't really useful for anything other than serving dinner in a hurry. 

Of course she had tried the spell. One night she went to bed early, drew her curtains and sat cross legged in the middle of the bed with her wand and by the light of a candle carefully balanced on the bedspread she had followed each step and then … absolutely nothing had happened.

With a shrug she slipped it into her bag, slung the bag over her shoulder and hurried downstairs wrapping a scarf around her throat as she went.

Slowly Hermione made her way to Hogsmeade making frequent stops to avoid other students on the way. Instead of walking down the main street she went through a series of lanes between cottage after cottage and eventually reached the path that led to the Shrieking Shack. Though Hermione knew that a werewolf who once lived within its walls was responsible for the terrible sounds that used to emanate from this place when the moon was full, rumours of haunting still abounded amongst the students of Hogwarts and the residents of Hogsmeade. She didn't know how many people really knew the truth about this place. However many it was it was convenient for her that most people still avoided it. 

Draco was not hard to find. He was sitting alone on a mossy log facing away from the path and leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. Hermione stepped up behind him and slipped her hands over his eyes before sliding them down over his front and resting her head on his shoulder.

"You made it?" he said turning his head slightly and reaching up into her hair.

"Am I _very_ late?" she asked as he helped her over the log and drew her close. 

"Hours and hours," he replied smoothly, before kissing her softly on the lips, "I thought you'd never come."

"I had to wait for everyone else to go," she breathed deeply, he smelled wonderfully fresh, just like the morning. Kissing him again, intoxicating.

"Hmm," Hermione could feel Draco's breath on her neck, she pulled back to watch him. 

"My mother has a scarf just like this," he said brushing the fabric aside.

"It was a present."

"Someone obviously thinks very highly of you," he remarked.

"If you're going to start going on about how expensive they are I don't want to know," she replied a little harshly. 

Draco looked surprised, but Hermione wasn't about to tell him that Ron had bought it for her as a Christmas present. Any mention of Harry or Ron from Hermione would usually plunge Draco into a mood so deep and dark that he probably bumped in to potholers down there. 

"Did I say a word?" Draco shook his head and took Hermione's hand. "Come on." 

He pulled her to her feet and led her into the shade of a knotted and twisted elder tree stooping beneath the gnarled branches on which clung the earliest buds of spring not yet ready to brave the cold. Hermione could still see the path but anyone approaching from the direction of the shack wouldn't be able to see them.

Draco leaned back against the trunk and looked at Hermione, "Tell me _exactly_ what was on that parchment I gave you," he demanded folding his arms.

Resisting the temptation to reply 'writing' Hermione reached to her bag but Draco stopped her, "_Tell_ me!" he said with a brusque note of command, "don't read it to me."

Lowering her hand she glanced sharply at him. Hermione didn't like it when he spoke to her like that. She'd tried the spell and it didn't work. The only thing that was going to happen was that she would look foolish. If Draco really wanted to humiliate her why did he bring her all the way out here to do it? He could have made her feel stupid back at the school. He continued to stand there arms folded and lips pursed, looking at her in a manner, which impatiently said, 'I'm waiting.'

As requested Hermione reeled off the list of directions.

"Again!" Draco instructed with a wave of his hand. He made her repeat them six times before he seemed satisfied. "Now, get your wand, this time we're doing it for real."

"Are you concentrating?" asked Draco grasping her shoulders as she fumbled in her bag for her wand. She looked up to see a wicked light burning in his eyes. It was nice to see that someone was enjoying this because Hermione certainly wasn't. 

She was not concentrating; she was much too confused though she replied, "Yes," as he took her hand.

"Ready?" he asked.

Hermione nodded then together they performed the incantation.

An odd sensation as if she had entirely misplaced the planet and been mixed up into a thousand pieces sliced through Hermione, then she found that she was standing near the edge of a very large field. Her skin prickled all over as if she'd been brushed with sandpaper, a feeling exacerbated by a bitter wind that cut through her cloak. It blew her hair into her eyes as she looked around. Draco stood nearby looking exhilarated; he was staring right at her grinning broadly.

"Good grief!" Hermione exclaimed. She'd just Apparated without a licence.

As soon as she'd finished pounding Draco repeatedly with both fists, Hermione started screaming, "You idiot, don't you know how dangerous that is! We could have been Splinched! Oh my god," she shrieked, frightening a flock of pheasants that rose as one from the long grass at the edge of the field. "We're going to be _expelled_, this is against school rules, the Ministry of Magic are going to trace us and we'll be expelled and I'll have to go back to being a Muggle and…"

"Take a breath!" Draco was laughing softly, "No-one will find out, there's too much magic in Hogsmeade for it to look odd, people Apparate all the time. You don't think they spend all day waiting for the train do you? And," he added, "there's too much magic round here."

'"The mud has secret powers does it?" Hermione sniped, tight lipped and sarcastic. "Where the hell are we?"

"In the middle of a field" he replied coolly, Draco pushed his toe through a lump of soft mud, "and I don't think there's anything special about the soil, it grows barley but I think mud is quite good at things like that." He wrapped his arm round Hermione's shoulder and began to walk toward a gap in the hedgerow guiding her along with him, "Knew you could do it," he said, "the first time I tried last summer I ended up leaving my feet behind. Father had one hell of a time explaining _that_ to the medi-magus," the memory seemed to amuse Draco, "but that's his own fault for being such a rotten teacher."

Somehow Hermione had expected Apparition to be more difficult, wasn't there a big test, like a driving test? Surely the Ministry of Magic didn't exaggerate the difficulty in order to discourage illegal use? Not that she didn't think it was dangerous, Splinching was clearly a real risk. Draco seemed awfully pleased but Hermione couldn't feel the least bit proud of being able to do something that breached a thousand wizarding regulations perfectly first try.

There was a wooden stile in the gap between the dark and twisting hawthorn and brambles. Draco stood on the low platform and pointed. "That is why no one will know."

"What?" Hermione was still confused but Draco was already in the next field.

"Chez Malfoi," he said reaching up to help Hermione over the stile.

__

'Oh goodness!' Hermione thought looking down at the building that lay in the valley below; its grey rooftops and pale walls partially obscured by trees. _'What ever am I doing here?' _

As Draco led Hermione down a muddy path she lost sight of the house. They went down a long country lane edged by trees and hedges bright with fresh green leaves but soon those were replaced by a high stone wall and the lane curved into a small driveway leading to a dilapidated gatehouse. A pair of rusty gates stood open in the archway, they screeched for oil as Draco pushed one to widen the gap. "Back gate," he said, "The north gate is rather more impressive, but this way's quicker."

The gates opened directly onto a courtyard surrounded by windowless outbuildings. Hermione looked up at the house made of the same pale creamy stone set with large windows empty and grey. Hermione wanted to explore but Draco walked straight by obviously he'd seen it all before. He led her through a narrow archway into a square gravelled yard. In the centre stood a gurgling fountain surrounded by a low stone bench but the thing that really caught Hermione's attention was the profusion of white and yellow roses that crept and clung across three high walls all reflected in a huge window set in the wall of the house to her right. The air was filled with the sweet heady scent of perpetual summer.

As they approached the other side of the yard a wrought iron gate swung open. They stepped onto a driveway that ran round a large circular lawn. On the far side Hermione could see an avenue of twisted yew trees leading off into the distance but Draco led her to the right. 

A flight of stone steps led up to a heavy front door. In the centre of the lintel Hermione noticed a lozenge which bore an eight pointed star in front of which was an open hand. Around the hand was coiled a thin serpent, it's head lying in the centre of the palm. Apart from the unconventional heraldry there was nothing at all to suggest that this house was anything unusual. No bats, no creepy guard monsters, not even a protective spell as far as she could tell. And when the door swung open at Draco's touch Hermione had to admit that she was a little disappointed when it didn't creak ominously. 

But as Draco held the door open for her she realised with a quivering breath that her own trepidation was quite enough, Hermione didn't need any atmospheric prompts to remind her that she was about to step inside the house of a Death Eater.

The air inside was cool and still. Hermione glanced around the hallway trying not to look too curious. It ran both ways along the entire front of the building shining dark wood infused with the smell of age and dust and beeswax. She noticed Draco pull off his cloak and throw it at a little man who stood by the door. Hermione was sure he hadn't been there before. The man caught it deftly then turned his shiny black eyes on Hermione.

She loosened the silver clasp of her cloak and held it out. He snatched it with long fingers but continued to scrutinise her. Hermione didn't know that Goblins worked as domestic servants.

"Give Garak your bag," said Draco, "You don't need it here." _(1)_

She did as suggested then Draco held out his hand to her.

"He owed my grandfather a debt," he said as if Garak wasn't standing right next to him, "it still hasn't been paid."

Draco turned squeezing her fingers. "Come on I want to show you round," he said to Hermione who was watching the goblin place their cloaks upon life size wooden figures that seemed to grow out of the floorboards. Draco let go of her hand then she heard his footsteps echo off the polished wooden floor. Hermione followed, noticing that the doors alternated with arched alcoves in which stood a series of marble busts. She paused, leaning closer to one. "Oh, be careful of those," warned Draco, "some of them bite."

Hermione backed away just in case he wasn't joking. 

"Will you get a move on!" he called from the end of the hallway; Hermione's head snapped round, why did he have to be so impatient? She watched him leaning on a window ledge as he waited glancing down at his fingernails. She thought he looked quite at home, he'd seemed to grow to fill the place switching immediately from schoolboy to host with his first breath of hallowed air. Hermione sighed, she felt awkward and couldn't help feeling like an intruder, maybe once she got used to the oppressive silence she could begin to relax. 

As she got nearer Draco flung open a pair of double doors which opened on to a large room. Hermione blinked. In here everything was painted white and anything that wasn't white was silvered or mirrored and after the dark oak hallway the effect was quite dazzling. Draco pulled the shutters across the first of four tall windows reducing the glare from the sunlight. 

"Do sit down," he said waving carelessly toward several chairs and sofas all upholstered in crisp pristine white. His other hand searched through a stack of letters that lay on a marble topped table, the only substantial piece of furniture in the room; everything else was small and spindly and delicate. Hermione did not sit. Only someone who had never been outside would not leave a mark on those cushions. She couldn't think of a less practical way to decorate a room. She looked up at the distant ceiling, all strangely scrolling plasterwork, then lingered near the fireplace, her feet not making a sound on the thick carpet. "What do you think of the drawing room?" Draco asked, not looking up. His old bored drawl had returned, something Hermione didn't hear very often these days.

Hermione had expected something rather more dingy, creepy and oppressive and hadn't he told Ron and Harry that … maybe it was better not to ask. She couldn't see anything that looked like the entrance to a hidden chamber.

"Mother had it redecorated two years back after the Minist … well never mind why. Father _hates_ it, said it looks like it belongs in a brothel..." Hermione had to agree, not that she knew what the inside of a brothel looked like, she wondered momentarily if Draco's father did. "… I think he nearly had a heart attack when he saw it but maybe that was her intention."

"It's very…" began Hermione, absolutely unable to find the words, "They're not here are they?" she asked instead.

"Who? Oh!" Draco shook his head, "In London, wouldn't've come otherwise. I don't really think you need to get mixed up with my family just yet."

__

'Just yet?' Hermione hardly thought that they'd welcome at any time, not after everything she'd heard about them.

"I know, you'll love this. Follow me!" Draco turned a key then held open a door halfway down the 'Drawing Room' It led into another hallway, this one dark and lined with portraits. Hermione felt a hundred pairs of cold grey eyes fix upon her as she followed Draco, they swivelled as she passed accompanied by a haughty raising of an eyebrow or twisting of a lip. Hermione tried not to look at them as they muttered softly to one another. As far as she could tell, if she ever mislaid Draco she could nip in here and by taking a nose from here and a chin from there she could gather just the right features to make a make a whole new one in minutes. 

"First thing I'll do when I inherit this pile," Draco said loudly, his voice echoing down the hallway, "Is to burn the whole damned lot of them!" 

An outraged babble erupted down the passageway, Draco smirked, a wicked glint in his eye, "I won't really," he whispered to Hermione, "Wouldn't dare, this lot would come back to haunt me. Just through here." He twisted a handle and pushed open a door admitting Hermione to 'the library', which turned out, to be a comfortable book lined cavern rising over two floors. The upper level was reached by a number of sliding ladders affixed to the shelves. In the centre was a very large polished table surrounded by six chairs and at the other end a pair of French doors stood open allowing a light breeze into the dusty room.

"There's a wonderful view of the sunrise between those hills over there" he pointed.

"Hmmm," Hermione was more interested in the books than the wonders of nature. She trailed her fingers along the stiff green spines of the _'Alchemaical Almanac'_, which spanned an entire shelf, over a slim black volume with silvery letters that rearranged themselves into nonsense each time she tried to read the title. Her eyes continued to scan the unfamiliar, disturbing and intriguing titles; _'Most Potente Potions'_ she knew... _'Elvem Degero'_ Hermione raised her eyebrow as her she caught the title of a large purple volume, _'Tainted Blood and Tolerance: The Demise of Modern Magical Education,' _and turned to glance at Draco who was leaning against the edge of the bookcase regarding her with an expression of pure delight.

"I knew you'd like it," he said with an indulgent smile before drawing Hermione into a corner where a massive globe stood, "I haven't read half of them. Take a look at this."

"I've seen a globe before, Draco." Hermione said deeply unimpressed, she wanted to see what else was sitting on those shelves.

He took her hand and holding it beneath his own Draco ran it down the brass arc that held the globe in place. With his other hand he turned the massive sphere so that Britain faced them. "Now look," he said pointing at a particular spot on the island. Hermione saw a tiny wisp of orange smoke emerge from the globe and hover on the surface where he indicated; "To do that, all I need is something attuned to you, that scarf would have been enough. That's you," he said, "It can follow you wherever you go, it's accurate to within about fifty miles. Father showed me how it works, he thinks that if you can get that close then it's fairly easy to find someone unless they're somewhere Unplottable or going to a great deal of trouble to remain hidden … this is the only one in private ownership. I hear there's one in a Muggle museum in London but the Ministry decided it was safer to leave it there…"

"Safer?" said Hermione, trying not to think too hard about why somebody like Mr Malfoy might wish to locate people who weren't keen on being found. Her eyes were drawn to other wisps of smoke, one bright blue was moving at high speed across the Atlantic Ocean, another in green taking what appeared to be a direct line from London to Bristol.

"Yes, it's a restricted object," explained Draco, "actually could you sort of forget that I told you about it? I don't really think we're meant to have it. It's one of the things the Ministry missed."

Was this some elaborate way of demonstrating how much he trusted her? Take her home, show her some Dark arts stuff then pop back to school … do three illegal things before lunch, break a hundred school rules and end the day with dinner in Azkaban! Perfect! If Draco wanted to let her know he trusted her why couldn't he just _tell_ her!

Hermione heard a loud click and the surface of the globe began to clear, the orange wisp that had hovered somewhere over Hampshire slowly dissipated, "There, who'd ever know?" Draco said. "Maybe you shouldn't look too closely at some of those books either," he gave Hermione a rather flat smile then turned the globe back to its original position as she drifted back toward the bookshelves, she pushed open a narrow door that stood ajar, it creaked. She caught a glimpse of a lot of dark wood and leather, a row of books on a shelf were propped between what looked like human skulls. Hermione was about to step inside when Draco grasped her elbow. 

"Now, now," he scolded turning her to face him, she watched the skin round Draco's eyes crinkle as he tried not to smile, "don't be so nosy." 

"What's through there?" Hermione asked innocently, wondering exactly what it was he didn't want her to see.

"Father's study," Draco replied pulling the door closed. "Go and poke around if you really want but I can tell you he has an incredible eye for detail and when you put something back in the wrong place I'm not going to pretend that it was me."

Hermione took that to be a warning.

Leaving the library they went round another corner and up a dark oak staircase that creaked beneath their feet; it split into two halfway up. They took the left branch, at the top was a dark blue curtain tied back with a cord revealing another corridor. Windows ran along one side and Hermione could see the grounds below, all grass and gravel.

"Father's rooms, mother's rooms," he waved as he passed. Draco paused. "Wait here a moment would you," he looked at Hermione who sighed and turned to look out of the window, "Actually, you'd better come in, I'd hate you to get curious. Some of these doors are locked with the most imaginative curses."

He twisted the ornate handle to 'Mothers rooms' and they entered a small windowless antechamber, it was decorated in silk of the palest shade of eggshell blue Hermione had ever seen. Three low chairs upholstered in the same fabric as the walls surrounded a tiny fireplace. A feint reminiscence of perfume hung in the air cloying and sweet. Draco stood over a delicate escritoire then he slipped on to a chair that looked as though it might break beneath his weight. 

A number of photographs in silver frames stood on a table. Hermione heard the scrape of a drawer and the rustle of papers. She didn't want to consider why Draco thought it acceptable behaviour to rifle through his mother's things so instead she concentrated on the pictures. A stunning young woman with a lot of blond hair and an older man who bore a disturbing resemblance to Draco smiled, totally absorbed in one another, _she_ couldn't be older than eighteen. From another frame the same woman but older gazed out impassively every now and then she blinked and in a third a little boy streaked in and out of focus waving wildly from the back of a broom that was much too large for him. Hermione recognised the grin on his face, it hadn't changed though perhaps he used it less often than he had when the picture was taken, she turned toward Draco who still leaned over the desk.

"Damn," he said simply pushing closed the drawer and leaning back; the chair groaned as he shifted his weight. Something scarlet caught Hermione's eye beneath the blotter, bright against the blue. Draco must have seen it too for his fingers fastened on the corner and he pulled.

It was a copy of _Witch Weekly_. Over Draco's shoulder Hermione glimpsed the headlines; _'I married a Muggle – Exclusive!'_ _'Squib in the family – the pain and the shame.' _a rather beautiful witch pirouetted between the headlines her long honey coloured hair trailing behind her. "Don't know why she reads this rubbish," she heard Draco mutter.

"Why…?" Hermione began then she saw Draco's head slowly turn and the look in his eyes was so dark that Hermione shut up instantly. Draco folded the magazine lengthways and tucked it into his school robes. 

"Mother told me she'd received an owl from school when father was away, said she'd left it here but he must've found it!" Hermione thought that Draco sounded rather resigned, "Oh well, I probably shouldn't've called Flitwick a stunted son of a squib anyway."

Hermione chewed her lower lip; she couldn't help thinking that he told her that to distract her attention from something else as he pushed back his chair, took her arm and said, "Lets get lunch."

He held the door then led Hermione through a concealed doorway into a very narrow passageway. He walked ahead as there was only room for one at a time she suspected this was not the route normally used by the family. A dull orange glow from a series of spherical lamps lit their way down a spiral staircase which ended in a wide bricklined passageway. The ceiling was arched and lit by daylight, which poured in through square windows in the roof. A feint line of green level with her shoulder and the stale smell of damp indicated that this passageway was below ground. Countless other corridors branched off but eventually they turned a sharp corner, walked up a short flight of stairs and through a door. 

The kitchen was very large and Hermione noticed very empty, clearly Draco also thought that someone ought to be here. He threw the door shut with a slam.

"Typical," he muttered turning back to Hermione, "Family goes away and they slack off."

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione as Draco pulled out his wand.

"Waking up the bloody House Elves!" 

"Don't!" she said covering the tip of his wand with her hands, "I have a better idea."

"Never do that!" he barked, "that's the most idiotic way of stopping a spell I can think of! Don't you know that I could have taken your hands off?"

Hermione did know but she didn't want to see the elves that worked in this house, if she did she didn't think she'd be able to stay another second ... the way Harry had described Dobby when he first met him… she kept her hands exactly where they were.

"And I thought we'd decided that you were going to stop contradicting me," Draco said. Hermione recognised his expression, it was his 'intimidating' look and this time it wasn't working, she smirked and on a whim plucked his wand from between his slack fingers.

"You decided, Draco," she replied, inwardly pleased at having disarmed him. Hermione tucked his wand in her robes and walked across to the long unpainted dresser, she picked up a large and very shiny copper pot.

"I'm going to Muggle cook lunch, Malfoy," she said fiercely, ignoring the bemused way in which he looked at his now empty hands, "and _you_ are going to help me!"

Draco raised his hands in surrender, "Whatever you want, Hermione."

"Good, light the stove would you?" Hermione began to pull open drawers and doors looking for certain implements. When she noticed that Draco had not moved Hermione turned back, "You do know what a stove is, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" he said tersely, "That's the larder over there, take what you want." The 'stove' was a long black cast iron range that ran across the far wall of the room. Hermione disappeared into the larder and when she emerged with an armful of vegetables she saw Draco on his knees with his head stuck in the oven presumably trying to check that the thing was lit. She stifled a giggle as she put the things down at the end of the long scrubbed table then found a knife and a large wooden board. By the time Draco extracted his head she had rolled up her sleeves, and was chopping a piece of meat into large chunks and throwing the pieces into a dish. "Thank you!" she said brightly as she rinsed her bloody hands before she started on the vegetables. Draco pulled out a chair from beneath the table and sat down.

"I spent some time down here when I was younger," he began, "it's the warmest place in winter," he leaned his chair back on two legs with his hands behind his head planting his feet firmly on the table. Draco's eyes roamed lazily over Hermione as she stirred the meat that was now browning in a pan, which hissed as she poured in some liquid from a jug before turning back. His soft melodic voice droned on but Hermione wasn't listening to what he was saying, she glanced at him every now and then, thinking how comfortable and satisfied he looked; Draco was clearly very pleased that he was getting away with doing absolutely nothing. Hermione bit her lip and stiffened, "…Mother breeds Thestrals _(2)_ you know … there's one in the stables right now with a bloodline that goes back seven hundred years – really you've never seen anything like it! I'll show you later…"

Hermione picked up a bowl full of chopped onions and potatoes and tipped them into the simmering pan then she slammed the empty dish hard against the kitchen table. "Do I look as though I need a supervisor?" she asked crossly. When Draco looked blank she pushed his legs to the floor, "Get up you lazy sod and help me!" 

"I'll get you for that," he said, a very calculating look settling on his face as he circled her with his arms and squeezed her tight. Hermione felt his hand inching its way toward his wand and she slapped it back.

"Peel those carrots, Draco," she said in a no nonsense tone.

"Stop treating me like a bloody House Elf!" he protested as he picked up a knife and began to do as he was told, "Why don't you just use your wand, Hermione?"

"It's more fun torturing you," she replied coolly, "apart from that, I _want_ to do it this way and I've never tried cooking by magic. I saw Mrs Weasley doing it but I think it needs a bit of practice." she noticed his lips thin at the mention of _that_ name. Hermione didn't look at him but asked, "Why are you glaring at me like that?"

"You've been to _their_ house?" Draco asked sullen.

"Lots of times. Do you have a problem with that?" she challenged.

"No," he seemed to be chopping the carrots very hard.

"Are you trying to cut through the table?" enquired Hermione taking the knife from between Draco's fingers and laying it aside. She scooped up the carrots and dropped them into the steaming pan, stirred it and put on the lid. After a moment the lid began to rattle as the pot boiled. Hermione turned back to Draco and found him holding a piece of potato peel between finger and thumb, examining it suspiciously.

"I'm done! Fifty minutes and it'll be ready. Shall we wash up?"

Draco looked horrified. "I have some standards, can't we just leave it for the…"

"No!" said Hermione firmly. She'd already turned the tap and was filling the sink with hot soapy water. She turned on him brandishing a dishmop, "Now roll up your sleeves and get over here. I'm betting that you've never washed a dish in your life and if I invite you to my house during the holidays you are going to volunteer to wash up after dinner. Got it, Malfoy?"

Hermione shoved the dishmop into his hands and seized a tea towel. 

"You're utterly heartless," said Draco turning to the white rectangular sink. She saw him grimace as his fingers broke the frothy surface of the scalding water. While she waited for something clean to reach the draining board, Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco's waist and pressed against his back. 

"Does that mean you're going to ask me to visit you?" Draco asked over his shoulder.

Hermione poked her head beneath his arm; he raised it slightly to give her space. "You missed a bit!" she pointed, and felt his arm move above her as he put the chopping board back into the water, "I didn't really think I'd be able to visit you here and anyway, my parents have never had a wizard to stay."

Draco glanced down, "Not even Potter?"

"Not even Harry."

"Fine. Might be convenient, because if father ever finds out I brought you here I'm going to need _somewhere_ to stay."

Hermione slid round a little further so that she could see Draco's face. It revealed nothing, "He wouldn't throw you out," she said, whatever he claimed Hermione just couldn't believe that.

Draco didn't reply, he just held the dishmop still against the chopping board and breathed deeply, "We'll have to see won't we!" he said eventually, then slowly he reached into the sink. 

As his arm tightened about her neck Hermione realised what he was going to do she also realised that she was trapped very securely in the crook of his arm. She tugged at Draco's sleeve but as she wriggled he scooped a large pile of suds from the sink and dropped them on her head. 

Hermione squealed and bit his wrist. He released her with a gasp then she began to hit him with her tea towel. Within minutes the terracotta floortiles were covered in suds, vegetable peel, water and a very damp Hermione who slipped on a piece of onion when she tried to dodge Draco's second assault with the dishmop. Seeing her disadvantage he slowly poured a jug of murky water over her head.

"You're dead, Malfoy!" she shrieked, hands flat on the floor and eyes level with his knees.

"Scary, Hermione. Very scary!" he snorted leaning down, then Hermione reached up and yanked his nose making him yelp with pain. "You utter cow!" he said, dropping down to her level "Prepare to die, Granger!" she felt his hands on her shoulders pushing her backwards, his face grinning into hers and she smiled sinking to the floor with him above her. 

"You're a mess," he accused as his damp hair flopped down over his eyes, tickling Hermione's nose.

"Look in a mirror, Malfoy" she retorted sticking out her tongue. Draco smiled when her hand grazed his cheek as she pulled a piece of turnip out of his hair he leaned down. Hermione noticed a rare warmth in his eyes and thought that he was about to kiss her, when;

A shrill whistle rang through the air. Hermione began to fumble in her robes, which was difficult because Draco was lying heavily on her and making no effort to move.

"Help me up would you?" she said, "It's ready." Draco shifted to his knees and helped Hermione to her feet.

"That was never fifty minutes," he said, puzzled. As the whistling stopped his eyes widened, "You cheated! You used an Acceleration Charm, that was ten minutes at most!" Draco sounded annoyed as he grabbed the edge of the table and pulled himself upright.

"Sort of," Hermione admitted, "Actually, I used your wand to do it. I left mine in my bag," she grinned and held out Draco's wand that she had stolen earlier. He snatched it back.

"I thought you objected to shortcuts!" he said stowing the wand safely away. "I think I'm having a bad effect on you."

"We have to be back at school by three," said Hermione matter-of-factly, "I've just saved us forty minutes. Do you mind?" she kissed the tip of his nose. Draco shook his head.

Ignoring the debris on the floor Draco produced a chequered table cloth from somewhere, it was barely large enough to cover the corner of the table but within a few minutes they sat down to lunch.

"Incredible," Draco said between mouthfuls of stew, "No-ones' ever done this for me before, restaurants, dinner parties, yes, but actually preparing it themselves? No way. Can you imagine Pansy up to her wrists in chunks of raw meat?" he continued, "Bitch wouldn't know which way up a carrot went! I had no idea you could do this, Hermione…" Hermione watched him talk and eat, picking at her own plate every now and then. 

Draco paused. "Did you hear something?" he asked.

"No, why so paranoid?"

"Just thought I felt the air change. The house is odd like that …a little thick..."

"You're imagining things."

"Maybe," Draco's free hand covered Hermione's, she laughed as he retrieved it every now and then when his hair fell into his eyes. 

"Have you thought any more about…" 

The kitchen door crashed against the dresser rattling every pan and plate in the room. Hermione's eyes darted to the doorway then to Draco. His face was white and his fork was still held between his plate and his mouth, eyes fixed upon the man in the doorway.

"Shit!" she thought she heard him say.

Bright against the darkness of the low corridor beyond stood Lucius Malfoy swathed in a heavy travelling cloak. Beneath this he wore a stiff collared shirt and a very dark suit that wouldn't have looked out of place at a particularly formal dinner. One look at his face told Hermione that he was not happy.

"Just what do you think you're doing here?" he enquired as the rattling of pans subsided. His voice was barely raised above a whisper.

"I…" Draco began, lowering his fork to the table. His other hand still rested on Hermione's and she could feel his palm growing cold and sticky.

"I don't want to hear it!" Malfoy interrupted as he stepped into the room his heel striking loudly on the hard tiled floor. He seemed to notice Hermione for the first time. His eyes lingered for a moment on the hand that lay beneath his son's then they travelled slowly to her face. 

Hermione swallowed. Did she imagine the tiniest nastiest little smile bend the corners of his lips? She suddenly wished that she still had Draco's wand in her robes, it might not be hers but at least it offered some…protection.

"I'll see you in my study, boy." Malfoy said. Hermione thought he was about to leave but he turned back to her. 

"You," Hermione found herself looking at the tip of a long sharp finger which flicked down to the floor. "Do something about this _mess_."

Something in his tone made Hermione shiver, it had all the same elements that sometimes made her hate Draco; casual, superior, commanding. He hadn't even _looked_ at her when he said it! Hermione could feel her pulse quickening, blood banging in her ears, indignation building and just itching for release … that man had no right to talk to _her_ like that! Hermione opened her mouth to protest but Draco squeezed her fingers as he stood and mouthed 'Just do it!'

Hermione watched Draco follow his father through the arched doorway, he was a little taller but at this moment Draco looked very small indeed. She listened until the sound of their footsteps faded and only then did she look down to the floor.

It was still soaked and strewn with dishcloths. What little sunlight came through the window with its sill at ground level glinted off the liquid, mocking her like those cold callous eyes. Draco had been right when said that he felt the air had thickened, right now Hermione could feel it tug at her hair and her robes each time she moved. She reached for her wand then remembered that she didn't have it with her, she scraped back her chair. Had that bastard known? She wondered. 

Not because she'd been told to, but because of the look in Draco's eyes when he whispered 'do it,' Hermione began to pick up all the little scattered pieces of food, she found what she needed to dry the floor. She scraped the remnants of lunch into the bin and finished washing the dishes, scrubbed out the pans. She dried them all and put them back where she had found them. Eventually Hermione sat just staring down at the white pine surface then covered her eyes with her hand and leant on her elbow. 

That man made her feel worthless and she'd just cleaned up his kitchen without protest. It was degrading but she presumed _that_ was the point. It could only have been worse if he'd stood over her and watched as she got down on her hands and knees to pick up the shrivelled pieces of potato and scrub the floor clean. But he didn't need to do that because he just knew she was going to comply. Hermione felt sick, the knot in her stomach tightened and all she could do was sit and wait, anxious and alone. 

It was an hour before Draco appeared in the doorway looking annoyed and worn.

"Draco," Hermione dashed forward but he raised her hand as if to ward her off, her eyes fell to the floor, she needed his comfort.

"We're going!" he said hoarsely without explanation and turned. He walked quickly with his arms tightly folded and his shoulders hunched. Hermione had to run to keep up with him; she didn't want to get lost, not down here. In minutes they emerged at the far end of the long gallery where they had entered the house. She thought she heard voices behind one of the many closed doors but there was no time to dwell on that, Hermione barely had her cloak in her hands when Draco swept out through the front door. She pulled her bag onto her shoulder and chased after him, cloak still over her arm.

"Draco," she called pulling on her cloak as she went down the steps, she tried to catch his arm but he kept wrenching it out of her grasp, "Draco!" 

He continued to ignore her until they reached the field at the top of the hill.

"You know what a Howler is don't you?" he asked spinning round to face her, "But of course you do, you know Longbottom. Anyway, I've just had the live equivalent and I really don't feel like talking so do me a favour and keep your bloody mouth shut!"

"But Draco…"

"Just shut up!" he bellowed into her face before climbing over the stile. 

Hermione sat down heavily on the grass; she'd scraped her knee. She didn't remember doing it but little specks of dried blood clung to her skin reminding her, warning her. The wind pushed wispy clouds across the sky rustling the leaves to obscure the song of the birds that chirped and courted in the bushes. How come they got to be so happy? Hermione didn't know what to do; she didn't know how to get back without Draco she didn't think that she could do it by herself. She sniffed and wiped her sleeve across her eyes, unable to tell who had upset her the most, Draco or his father. She could still see the gleaming walls of their house stark against the green of the valley below but she wished she'd never seen it, she wished she'd never seen Draco or that horrible man who she was already beginning to loathe; _'But you love his son,'_ she reminded herself.

Draco. Hermione didn't even know if he'd still be there. She got to her feet and climbed into the field. He was there, standing, looking lost. Hermione followed the prints their feet had made in the soft earth earlier that day to where he stood.

"I'm sorry," said Draco as she approached. He reached out and warmed her cheeks with his hands. Her eyes were still damp and sore but if he noticed Draco didn't say. He angled her head so that she had to look up at him his eyes were clouded almost lifeless. "I didn't know he'd be there," he breathed, "You were meant to enjoy today. I just wanted to see your face when I showed you something different. I forgot to show you the…" Draco rubbed his shoulder not bothering to finish, "Seems I'm not very popular round here at the moment." 

Hermione raised her hand and brushed his hair away from his face, she felt him stiffen as her hand skimmed his brow. Linking her hands behind his neck she made him look down at her.

"Draco, will you please talk to me for a second?" she asked trying hard to keep her voice steady.

"No," he answered shortly pushing her arms aside. "But if you'll be quiet for a second, I'll kiss you."

"I will not be qu…" she began angrily. Hermione had had quite enough of being told what to do by Malfoys for one day. But this one was always too quick for her. Draco simply grunted and snatched at her hands quickly pinning them to her sides. "Got you," he said through a forced grin then she felt his arms circling her holding her tight. 

He was behaving as though the last few hours had not happened but Draco pressed her body to his much too tightly and lost himself in her hair just holding her there as though he never expected to hold Hermione again. 

__

~Fin~

In **_Part Twelve: Relative Values _**… flying lessons, sharp words and unexpected news from home.

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Authors Notes

Only two Beta babes on this one **Bumblebee** and **Squin**. Thanks goils:)

This will be the last chapter for at least two weeks. On Thursday I leave the UK for a country where I don't even speak the language. Writing will resume as soon as I have my internet connection sorted out.

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Sephiroth no Miko recommended a wonderful fic in her review "For Earth Is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky" by Pata. Read it, it's marvellous.

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Antinua: I'm now very scared indeed. That olive threat has just persuaded me to write more

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Daphne: I didn't think you were a lazy bum. I'll be in touch.

To **Everyone Else** thank you for reading and reviewing. I really appreciate your feedback and continuing support.

For updates on this fic please join:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Transi_de_Froid/

Comments, suggestions, criticisms, huge piles of money, publishing contracts, send either to the list or to me seeker@slytherindungeon.net

Love always

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~Incitata~

Footnotes:

Garak: the name of the Cardassian tailor on Star Trek DS9 – Yes, I'm a trekkie:) 

(2) Thestral: from 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.' A type of Winged Horse.


	12. Relative Values

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.

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**__**

Part Twelve: Relative Values

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The time to hesitate is through

No time to wallow in the mire

Try now and we can only lose

And our love become a funeral pyre

The Doors: Light My Fire

~0~

During breakfast on Monday morning at exactly the same moment that the windows of the Great Hall swung open to admit the post, a large Eagle Owl plunged down from the rafters above the Gryffindor table. She didn't know what made her look up but as it dropped nearer and nearer in a bright blur of beak and feather and talon Hermione had a remarkable insight into what it felt like to be a very small and vulnerable rodent. The owl, on finding it's prey dropped with practised aim a deep blue envelope between her dish and goblet then rose with one flap of its wings and melted into the flurry of post owls. 

Hermione bit her lip and glanced furtively at Ron, had he also recognised the bird? But Ron was too busy trying to grab Pig who flitted up and down apparently reluctant to give up a small package held tight in his claws. Taking advantage of the confusion Hermione reached out for her copy of the Daily Prophet and with her other hand slipped the letter into her lap. Keeping one eye on Ron she proceeded with rather more ceremony than normal, to place the newspaper beside her plate and untie the ribbon. 

"What _do_ you look like, Ron?" she said, glancing at the butter which oozed from between the fingers of the unfortunate Weasley's right hand. Hermione's eyes slipped to the other which was clenched round a small feathery bundle from which protruded a clicking beak and two tight round claws firmly attached to a small parcel wrapped in shiny orange paper.

Ron yelped as the beak nipped his finger then he plunged Pig tail first into the milk jug and the parcel dropped into his waiting hand.

"I'll have my tea black shall I?" scolded Hermione fishing the little owl out of the jug and began to dry his feathers with a napkin, "Really, Ron. I should report you to the Beast Division on a charge of wilful owl dunking."

"There's no such offence!" protested Ron, uncertainly picking with one finger at the claw shredded paper. Now he had his package he didn't seem quite so keen on opening it. He pushed it along the table top with the tip of one finger, "if you don't mind me asking," he said his eyes darting over Hermione, "When are you and Ginny going to make up?"

Beneath the table Hermione traced her thumb across the blob of wax that sealed her envelope, smooth and cold and brittle, very different to the soft grain of the parchment while her eyes focussed on the freckled tip of Ron's nose. 

"She knows where I am," Hermione replied shortly, feeling that Ginny had very good reason not to trust her and certain that now was probably not the best time to raise that subject.

Ron sighed and leaned his chin on the palm of one hand, "I'll never understand you people."

"People?" Hermione asked archly, "Or people of a certain persuasion?"

"You women!"

"I thought that was the point of life," replied Hermione relieved to find a way of changing the subject, "What's in your parcel?"

"Oh," Ron looked down at the half wrapped box, "Dunno, lets see." He removed the rest of the paper and prised open the lid of a miniature packing case. Ron shook his head as he drew out a card accompanied by several springy woodshavings that scattered over his empty plate. 

"It's from Percy." He lay the card on the table and dipped his fingers into the box he pulled out a long gold chain, at the end of which dangled what appeared to be a small polished egg. Ron held the object out at arms length and removed the last protective shaving that clung to its charge. Something in the tilt of his chin told Hermione that Ron was deeply unimpressed. She watched as he placed the egg in the palm of his hand and it split in half revealing a minute figure which peered up at Ron, quill poised above a scroll of parchment.

"A Personal Organiser!" exclaimed Hermione clapping her hands together, as the figure tapped its foot impatiently and began to glare. She had the odd impression that it was modelled on a certain Hogwarts librarian. Desperately trying not to smirk she beamed at Ron, "How thoughtful, that will be very useful with exams coming up. How are Percy and Penelope?"

"They're fine," said a wary Ron clicking shut the egg with marked distaste, "I'm not sure about you though. Half an hour on the Quidditch pitch might do you good, otherwise you'll end up sending organisers to people; just like Percy."

"You could do worse than Percy. Really, there's no harm in wanting to do well!"

"Relax Mum! 

"I wish you people would remember that Quidditch isn't everything!" noted Hermione with no indication that she had heard Ron's remark.

"Me and Harry do okay," replied Ron emphasising his point. Hermione simply shook her head and reached for her newspaper. She sighed, they weren't the only one's that would benefit from a bit of hard work off the Quidditch pitch.

~0~

For the twentieth time that day Hermione pulled the letter from her robes and looked warily at the angled script. Fragments of purple wax from the cracked seal still clung to the page where it had grazed the envelope and the heady scent of amber filled her nostrils as she smoothed the page.

__

Meet me on the Quidditch pitch at eight tonight.

We need to talk. 

D.

Hermione's mouth fell slack as she lowered the page. 

__

We need to talk … 

The four most feared words in the English language. Hermione tucked her legs beneath her and kneaded the cushion in the crook of her arm, she tried to shrink back into the worn chair. The last person to say those words to her was Justin. 

__

Is that why Draco didn't turn up to meet me yesterday? She wondered bitterly nothing she could tell her self would persuade her otherwise, didn't he have the courage to say it to her face? Hearing a footfall on the dormitory stairs Hermione stuffed her letter beneath the cushion and turned slightly to get a clear view of the doorway. A pair of second years ambled down and sat at a nearby table. Hermione turned back to the fire, she didn't plan to move from here for the rest of the evening. As she picked at the stuffing that poked through a tiny tear in the faded fabric Crookshanks padded across the floor. After staring for a few minutes as if to make sure she wasn't going to move, he leapt up and nestled in her lap, he stretched, extending one possessive paw over Hermione's knee where his claws pricked at the end of every Rrrrrrrr. 

Absently Hermione trailed a finger through Crookshanks thick fur. There was no way she was going to meet Draco. If he had something to say he could come and see her on her territory, sending curt little notes wasn't going to work.

Slowly, as stragglers returned from dinner and detention and late classes the Gryffindor common room began to fill up. Hermione waved half heartedly at each greeting and after ten minutes that resolve that she had thought was so strong began to dry and flake. She glanced at her watch. 

7:44

__

No, I'm not moving.

Chattering voices, friends and housemates, all completely oblivious as to what she was going through. 

7:48

__

No. Don't even think about him.

Lavenders giggle. The wireless crackling as the Gryffindors searched for something on the WWN worth listening to. Voices, voices, voices. 

7:51

__

I can't stand this any more!

Hermione was on her feet. Her eye caught the retreating tail of Crookshanks who had never before been so unceremoniously evicted from a lap. She didn't stop to get her bag, her cloak or even to answer Harry's concerned call of "What's wrong?" She did not see the sympathetic glances of Parvati and Lavender as the Portrait hole banged shut. Hermione just had to know.

By the time she neared the Quidditch pitch, Hermione's apprehension had returned. Why had she come? Why was she making it easy for him? Voices carried from behind the stands, skeletal and dark against the evening sky. They only lived on match days when draped with the flowing colours of the competing houses and of Hogwarts. Banners as loud and bright and fresh as the bodies that clamoured behind them.

As she picked her way beneath the bones, Hermione listened to the voices of the Slytherin team. She paused in the shadows and sat with her back against a broad beam. Here she could wait unseen until their practice was over or maybe until she convinced herself that answering Draco's summons was a bad idea and she returned to the safety of the castle. 

Between the tiered wooden benches above, two pairs of feet dangled, drifting in and out of view. Between indistinct words she heard a chuckle that she recognised as Draco's a long time before she recognised his ankles, 

"…and then, even after the Puddlemere fiasco the moron tried again! What sort of an imbecile is …"

"Will you keep your gob shut and concentrate on the game, Malfoy," yelled Pucey from across the field, "Your bloody mouth cost us the last game."

"Don't blame me for your lamentable performance." Draco's foot twitched irritably as if he wanted to kick someone, Hermione thought that he probably did. She recognised his tone it was dangerously soft, like quicksand. Unable to curb her curiosity she clambered to her feet and moved a little closer to the gap between the slats. 

The description 'bronzed' would never be applicable to any Malfoy but today Draco looked even paler than usual. The deep green of his Quidditch robes appeared to have leached all the blood from his skin, replacing it with a reflected sickly pallor. His eyes seemed shadowed and tired lacking their usual fire as they pierced Adrian Pucey's back with a look that wasn't exactly team spirited. As Malfoy moved away the Slytherin captain began to yell at Baddock. 

__

He who shouts loudest… thought Hermione stepping back into the shadows. 

8:17. She pulled her robes tight around her shoulders and began to wish that she'd brought her cloak as the breeze that had been so pleasant earlier that afternoon began to cool and strengthen. When she glanced again at the field the team were standing in the middle engaged in heated debate it didn't seem as though much more Quidditch was going to be played tonight. Hermione felt that Mr Pucey might benefit from calming down a little and addressing the teams real problem which from where she was standing appeared to be the attitude of its captain.

Draco leaned on his broom watching the other six walk back to the changing room; he shook his head but gave no indication that he was expecting anyone. Hermione made a mental note to ask him why he wasn't captain if she could ever find the right time. Only when they had vanished did he mount his broom and whizz around the field. It was then that Hermione stepped out and walked slowly into the centre of the pitch.

"Draco," she called loudly, "will you come down?"

He swooped low in a flurry of deep green robes, "What a pleasant surprise." he remarked in a breath as he passed overhead then looped upside down before pulling up sharply, the tip of his broom just inches from Hermione's nose. She didn't even blink.

"You're early," he said slipping off the broom, which continued to hover just level with his shoulder, a sheen of sweat glistened on his brow as he cocked his head on one side and smirked. "I'm not in the shower yet."

"Draco!" she said, coldly. She wasn't going to let him distract her with remarks like that, "What is your problem? No, drop the hurt ferret expression, you wanted to see me and I'm here. What did you want?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "I just thought you might like to get out of the library for ten minutes."

"Come off it, first you don't want to talk to me, then you do. You drag me halfway across the country let some evil bastard treat me like dirt, and don't get me started on the fact that you duped me into breaking the law. I'm not going to take this. You can't treat me this way." If she'd been standing on a wooden floor Hermione's foot would have made a satisfying bang, instead it just made a rather dull squelch and spattered cold sloppy mud up her leg.

Draco blinked slowly, apparently unmoved by her tirade. "Hermione, you're overreacting and I assure you my father is entirely legitimate," he said sourly, flicking his hair out of his eyes, "Can't you bear to be without me for an hour or two?"

"Two days, Draco." he shrugged which only made Hermione more angry. "Why can't you just talk to me? This was always going to be hard but sulking and resorting to snide remarks isn't going to help anyone."

"There's nothing to say," he replied brushing a speck of dust off the tip of his broom. "Can I get on now?"

"Not until you grow up." Hermione desperately wanted to reach out to him or shake him or slap him or something just to make him look at her, "You asked me to meet you here so tell me what you want."

"That's a very dangerous request, Hermione," a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he turned away and began to adjust a loose twig in the tail of his broom, "thank you for coming." 

She stood there with her arms folded glaring at Draco until he turned back to her.

"Do something for me," he said his eyes had regain their dangerous, playful glint, "and don't even think of refusing. I can't be bothered to argue."

"What?" Another of his bizarre amusements? 

"Fly with me!" he said simply lowering his broom to waist height, "I've seen you fly and frankly it's embarrassing to watch. I'd like to show you how to stay upright."

"I can't," said Hermione shortly, "I don't like flying."

"I said no arguments. Anyway, you only say that because you're no good at it." Draco sucked in a breath between his teeth and narrowed his eyes. Hermione had never wondered what a piranha fish looked like just before it bit but she suspected that she had just found out. "Naturally you wouldn't have a clue, not exactly born to it, are you? Still, _I_ am and I've been having lessons since I could walk."

"I didn't come here for a flying lesson," she said ignoring his slur and tried to return the conversation to her reason for being here, "I came to talk to you."

"Actually you came here because I asked you to. No other reason." Draco swung his leg over the broom then lifted both feet off the ground. Hovering, he held out his hand. "Get on the broom, _then_ we can talk," he said. 

Hermione ground her teeth together _…stubborn, manipulative, infuriating…_ she thought. "Okay," she said after a long pause. "If you'll talk."

"In front," he said catching her before she could get on behind him, "You're flying, not me."

"Are we really meant to go two to a broomstick?" she asked already knowing that it could carry two.

Draco ignored her question. "Get a good grip … STEADY!" he reached around her and placed his hands over hers resting his head on her shoulder. "Gently now," he breathed as the broom began to rise.

__

He's loving this, she thought as he pushed up tightly behind her. She could taste his breath hot and sweet as she felt him lean slightly to the left. Hermione followed and they turned he straightened then pulled his hands off hers exposing them to a sudden sharp rush of wind, she felt his arms wrap around her waist as her own grip tightened on the broom.

"I could have used another broom alongside but this way is more fun," he said his head still on her shoulder. From the corner of her eye Hermione could see the tip of his nose quiver as he spoke. "You have complete control by the way."

Hermione wished that he hadn't said that, she was higher than she had ever flown and the altitude was beginning to make her feel giddy. She glanced down at the trees below, the Forbidden Forest extending far beyond the horizon. 

"What did you want to talk about?" Draco enquired casually as though they had just sat down for a quiet lunch.

__

Not falling, thought Hermione, "Just tell me what's bothering you?" she snapped as a gust of wind buffeted them sideways through a bank of low cloud.

"Apart from your tone of voice there's nothing bothering me," replied Draco drawing Hermione's windblown hair away from her face, "what more could I want than to be up here on a broom with you?"

"Be serious." Her eyes fixed on the grey angled horizon she focussed, trying to bring it level.

"I _am_ being serious," she could feel his words vibrating, he was so close to her ear, so close and so warm, "There's nothing wrong. But allow me my whims, Hermione; I've asked little else of you." she couldn't tell if it was a sigh or the rush of the air that passed her ear but he wrapped his arms more tightly round her waist as he continued, "Is it really my fault that I'm sick of being _your_ sordid little secret? Can you really expect me to be nice to you when you spend all day pretending that I don't exist?" 

That wasn't fair. 

__

You know what he's trying to do don't you? prodded her conscience, _he's going to make you blame yourself for his abuse and you're going to end up apologising to him when it's his fault._ Hermione ignored that. In a twisted way she had to admit that he had a point.

He pushed forward slightly, a days growth of stubble rubbed against her cheek and her neck. Hermione wanted to push him away but she couldn't let go of the broom. He continued to speak humming softly in her ear like the wind; "Either you want to be with me or you don't, so I think it's about time you chose…_I've_ chosen and unless you can do the same for me, I'm not prepared to go any further."

"What do you mean?" her head turned slightly she just caught a glint of his eye

"Please don't pretend to be stupid, Hermione. If you don't know what I mean we have nothing more to say."

Hermione didn't reply. His message was clear enough but why couldn't he just say what he meant? Why all the riddles, the hints, the implications?

"Turn us to the right," Draco said apparently not about to say more on the subject, "We'll fly much too far if you continue to go in a straight line and unless you like flying blind the night is no fun."

Hermione tensed, she hadn't been watching where they were going, and she was too busy trying to rationalise everything, to understand while he was being normal.

__

Take advantage of it, she told herself, _maybe then he'll explain._

"To the right, Hermione," he suggested again, "Just lean into it, as hard as you like. There's an anti-spin charm on the tail of my broom so there's no way you can lose control except at high speed." Hermione thought that this _was_ high speed, "Come on!" he encouraged.

Hermione closed her eyes and leaned very slightly to the right.

"Harder!" he said scolded, "How do you expect it to respond if it doesn't know what you want it to do?"

"I'm trying!" she snapped reluctant to lean any further.

"No, you're not," he accused then Hermione felt something warm and wet slide slowly down her left ear, she flinched and shifted sharply to the right. The broom turned in a smooth wide arc.

"Do I have to do that every time I want you to turn?" asked Draco squeezing his thighs tight against her hips. Hermione could just imagine the self satisfied smirk on his face.

"Keep your tongue to yourself! It's distracting."

"Nonsense! Flying is all about control so I suggest you start acting as though you are in charge. This broom is used to my movements and I can guarantee that closing your eyes and asking it nicely will not make it do what you want! Now, pull upright then circle back to the left."

Hermione did as asked. It seemed that Draco had decided their conversation was over and if she was honest at this second she was far more concerned with not falling than with smoothing the wrinkles out of their relationship. They straightened and she felt him move behind her placing his head on the other shoulder.

"To the left," he muttered blowing softly against her right ear. Not willing to give him the opportunity to start nibbling on her right ear Hermione leaned out of his way.

"Getting better," as he said it she felt his arms tighten again, he possessed the unnerving ability of making her feel both vulnerable and secure at the same time. "Now climb a bit, faster, just kick back and you'll accelerate. Good," 

Hermione shivered slightly as the airspeed increased. She wished he would stop ordering her around but she surmised that she didn't have any choice but to follow Draco's instructions because if she didn't they would very likely crash very hard, very painfully and very soon into the canopy of the forest below. She suspected that he was just obstinate enough to let her crash if she didn't obey even if it meant that he was injured too. 

"Now take us down in a big slow circle," he said. Hermione did watching the green treetops change from a flat swathe as they grew closer, she could see individual trees and branches and leaves as they skimmed the surface then the forest petered out to become open grass.

"You see the pitch below? Go down, gently. Good. Now, aim for the central post, tight round it, sharp left," Draco reached out and plucked something out of the air, "I thought we'd lost it," he said waving a fluttering Golden Snitch in front of her eyes, "Now go to the middle of the field. Stay at this height and … stop!"

They were still about ten feet above the ground he brushed her hair aside and pulled her hands back against his legs then enfolded her in his Quidditch robes while he gently kissed the back of her neck. The broom sank slowly back to the ground.

"I'm impressed," he said as they got on the ground, "all you needed was a decent teacher. Next time you have a flying lesson, just relax and you'll be fine."

"Thank you," Hermione gasped. her pulse was racing and for once she had actually enjoyed the experience of flying. She threw her arms round Draco and grinned up at him. "There are worse ways to learn."

Draco chuckled, "We'll make a Witch of you yet!" he said.

"I _am_ a witch," Hermione recoiled as if he'd just slapped her.

"That depends on your definition," he stated simply.

Hermione stared open mouthed as Draco picked up his broom and hoisted it over his shoulder and turned back to look at her. How could he say such a thing? Draco reached forward and lifted her chin with a crooked finger to close her mouth.

"You're so easy to provoke …"

"Why do you have to ruin everything!" Hermione slapped his hand away, "Can't you just allow a perfect moment to continue?"

"…and you have no sense of humour! Don't look so sulky Hermione. I love you anyway." 

"I'll see you later." Said Hermione flatly turning away. She no longer felt talking to him or being anywhere near him. Suddenly everything was back on her mind, his cruel remarks, his offhand manner. He took her from ecstasy to misery with a few words and barely seemed to realise that they were hurtful words. She had walked barely five steps when Draco appeared, bobbing at her elbow his broom matching her speed exactly. 

"Don't I get a kiss?" Draco sounded hurt.

"Not this time," she replied not stopping.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, "You flew wonderfully, why so upset?"

"When you work it out, let me know." Without another word Hermione quickened her step and walked back toward the school.

~0~

As she approached the main door of the castle Hermione noticed an odd little gathering sitting on the stone steps. They were a peculiar group consisting of Lavender Brown, the Patil twins and Blaise Zabini, long ago they had formed a clique for which Hermione had assumed the only membership requirement was a certain degree of stupidity. Since she had become a fringe member of this group she now knew that wasn't true and whilst Lavender might well have more fluff than brains in her skull she was certain that something dangerous lurked beneath the vapid exterior of Blaise Zabini.

Hermione did not trust Blaise. She knew that the girl was in some way involved with the bet that soured last term. Hermione still had Draco's letter which proved it – she should burn it really but it served as a reminder of who she was dealing with much more than any fears of Dark lords and Death Eaters. Such worries were far more abstract and easily reasoned away than a hand-written confession of guilt. Despite that Hermione still loved Draco though he infuriated her.

"Hi 'Mione," said Lavender. The other girls were crowded round her shoulder reading the same page of a magazine. "How you?"

"Great!" she lied. The last thing Hermione wanted to do was get into a discussion of how she was feeling with this lot. 

"Even after Justin?" asked Padma. "Lavender said you were really upset in the common room tonight. We all came to look for you."

"Well here I am." said Hermione, she still hadn't forgiven Padma for what she'd said in the library, no matter how many times Hermione told herself that it was her own fault for eavesdropping the word 'plain' still rang in her mind every time she heard Padma speak. "I felt like a walk. 

"Is it true that Justin ended it?" asked Blaise without looking up.

Hermione nodded, "Suits me fine. I don't have time for boyfriends."

"Why are you looking so sulky then?" asked Parvati, "And you keep sloping off by yourself, we thought you were pining."

"Perhaps she has a secret boyfriend," Blaise finally raised her eyes, dark and sparkling from the glossy page. Hermione's gaze dropped to the floor then slowly when she was sure that they carried the right degree of scorn, she raised her eyes to meet Blaise's. 

The Slytherin's expression said it all _'… I know all about it, so don't bother to deny it…' _Hermione swallowed and forced a smile, "You _are_ imaginative," she said feeling the uncomfortable prickle of sweat breaking on her forehead.

"Seamus might be interested." Lavender continued unaware of what was passing between Blaise and Hermione.

"No offence Lavender but your last recommendation wasn't much good. I'm not interested."

"But that was Justin…What about Harry or Ron or have you been there already?"

__

Prurient little… "Definitely not! They're friends. Seriously, I don't need a boyfriend to feel complete, I'm happy alone."

~0~

Hermione had not slept well. She felt like strangling Draco or hexing his ears off. Why had he told Blaise Zabini? She imagined them in some snug little corner of their common room talking in low whispers late into the night. Hermione wanted to be able to do that. Why had he confided in that horrible hag when he wouldn't even talk to her about what he was thinking. Merlin, maybe he'd been boasting to the whole common room. 

She picked up her bag and traipsed down to breakfast. Harry and Ron were already there and so were Lavender and Parvati, as she didn't feel like listening to the lonely hearts column over breakfast Hermione waved at the girls as she passed and went to join Ron and Harry.

"Has the post been?" she asked spooning porridge out of a cauldron and into her dish. "This is really thick," she remarked as the lumpy white mess plopped down into her dish, suddenly Hermione didn't feel quite so hungry.

"Yeah, your papers here," said Harry tossing a folded Daily Prophet to Hermione. "I think Dobby finally stirred the others into rebellion," grinning at Hermione's look of consternation as she poked her spoon in the porridge.

"Yeah," added Ron going for another helping of slightly singed bacon, "Your boycott finally payed off."

Hermione smiled thinly at the pathetic reference to her attempts at raising the profile of elf rights in her third year as she finally pushed her bowl away with the spoon standing upright in the centre.

"Something edible would be nice," she muttered.

"'Mazing Harry," chuckled Ron through a mouthful of fried eggs, "she's finally betrayed her principles. That always happens to dangerous radicals."

"Yeah Ron," Hermione said wondering what sort of reception breakfast was receiving on the less liberal house tables. "The day I sell out I'll be on the front page of the Daily Prophet."

"Look who's back!" she exclaimed as a column at the bottom left of the front page caught her eye. Hermione read it out loud for the benefit of her friends.

__

"Fudge melts into sticky mess! 

Official sources last night denied that the incumbent Cornelius Fudge plans to step down from his post as Minister of Magic writes Rita Skeeter, our corespondent for Ministry Matters. Fudge has recently come under increasing criticism for his failure to quash rumours that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is resurgent. 

"Ts, ts, ts," commented Mr Lucius Malfoy, "Such a thing could never happen again. Dark Wizards indeed! Such rumours are perpetuated by crackpots and fools who's status and acclaim rests on nothing more than hot air. I am one hundred and ten percent behind Fudge. What the Magical Community needs right now is leadership, not division and the acknowledged leader of our community is Cornelius Fudge."

__

Indeed the rift between the Ministry and the headmaster of Britains foremost magical educational establishment appears to be widening. This reporter would remind readers that Albus Dumbledore declined the post of Minister for Magic preferring to isolate himself behind the charmed walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now he has re-emerged from obscurity determined to split opinion and to instil fear into the hearts of Witches and Wizards worldwide by claiming that You Know Who is back.

Perhaps Dumbledore has regrets about his decision? If so is scaremongering and the circulation of rumours the best way to deal with it? We think not. In the pursuit of truth this reporter will leave no stone unturned, let no skeleton hide in the closet…"

"Let no cliché rest in peace," added Harry with a grin. 

"Skeeter! Laden as ever with innuendo." Said Hermione with a shake of her head, "I thought I'd sorted her out."

"Don't start all that again," warned Ron, "she's not here and anyway she'd see you coming this time."

"Maybe," said Hermione rolling up the paper and shoving it in her bag, "Listen, I need to grab something from the library, I'll see you in class."

Halfway up the marble staircase Hermione heard footsteps behind her, fast footsteps.

"Read this," Malfoy panted shoving a sheet of parchment into her hand, it seemed to match several others and an envelope that he retained.

"I'm not talking to you," she said dropping the parchment without so much as a glance. Hermione thought she let Draco get away with far too much. All that was going to change or he could simply get knotted, those cruel words yesterday were the limit, she wasn't going to let him mess her around like that any more. 

"How does Blaise Zabini know about us?" Hermione asked sharply before continuing up the stairs and along the corridor.

"What's she said?" asked Draco steadying himself with a hand on Hermione's shoulder. 

  
"Nothing, but she knows and I want to know why." She turned and moved beyond his reach. Draco was struggling for breath. What was so pressing that he had run to catch up with her?

"Blaise can keep a secret. Anyway, that's not important, read this." he must have stopped to pick it up because it was the same sheet, wrinkled where Hermione had thrown it aside. As he thrust the parchment into her hands Draco hustled Hermione into an empty classroom.

"It's important to me." She dropped it again and stepped on it, twisting her foot as she turned to glare at him. "Why did you tell her?"

"I had to talk to someone, I had a hard decision to make," he stooped and raised his eyebrows at the state of the page, he shoved it once again into her hands, "read it! Please."

"No!"

"Don't then. I'll read it to you."

Hermione snatched it out of his hand, she didn't want to give him the opportunity to start going on at her. Her eyes skimmed across the page, fluid yet precisely formed letters, words about her. Her eyes flicked up to Draco's his eyes were wide and excited. Hermione lowered her hands and sat on a nearby desk. 

The man wrote the same way he spoke, softly and with more meaning in the things that were not said than the words on the page.

"Do I get a say in this?" she asked. Draco didn't seem to think there was anything wrong. 

"What's the problem," he asked holding her tightly, "I knew the old bastard had a heart." 

Hermione found that very difficult to believe she smiled tightly but Draco didn't seem to notice her reservation.

"I didn't think he'd come round. Once he found out who you were. I tried to keep you out of it but he just went on and on until I told him who you were and you don't know what he said, about… you, about your type. He was quite ready to drag you out of the house by your hair and kick you down every inch of the drive but I just exploded and shrieked at him until I ran out of words. He just stood there staring at me as if I'd turned up to dinner wearing a dress. I don't think I've ever seen him lose his composure before but it worked, Hermione. I've never done that, argued that way … with him. And in the end he just blinked and said, get out of my house."

"Why are you telling me this?" Hermione asked softly, she moved toward Draco, stroking her hand down his cheek, honesty was all well and good but he was implying things that she would prefer not to hear. "I don't need to know the details. It's enough that your family are willing not to object to us."

"Lets celebrate," he said grasping her hands, "We'll wait until everyone has gone to lessons then I'll sneak you into my dormitory."

__

Celebrate? Is that what they're calling it these days? Hermione thought wryly. Tasting the dry salty tang of his lips. Much as she loved the idea of celebration sex she replied, "I have to go to class," breaking away from his kiss.

"Here then?" he said baring his teeth and trailing one hand down the front of her robes. 

"Do you really think I'm going to be caught in the stationary cupboard?"

"I'm willing to take the risk."

"I won't be there so you'll look a little lonely."

"Hermione!" Draco contrived to look shocked at the implication.

"Will you tell them now?" he asked, "everyone can know now."

"Soon," she lied, just because Draco's father had inexplicably changed his opinion of Muggle borns it didn't mean that Ron and Harry would miraculously change their opinion of Malfoys. If she could just put it off a little longer and a little longer… "I don't want to spoil their exams, Draco. As soon as they're over I'll tell them."

"As you wish," Draco acquiesced. 

Hermione felt his arms stretch around her back as he drew her close, her cheek rested on his chest where amidst the warmth of his dark robes infused with the scent of lime and amber she could feel the rapid slowing rhythm of his heart. She smiled thinking that it must have been the first time Draco had complied without argument.

~0~

In **_Part Thirteen: Between the lines _**… what motivates miraculous changes of heart. The Malfoys and the Ministry in abundance, Niccolo Machiavelli would have been proud!

****

Authors Notes:

Thank you all for waiting for so long for this chapter. Personally I don't like it (except the flying scene) I think that maybe it should have been a bit more developed. It hasn't been through the usual beta process and is possibly a bit less polished than some of the other chapters. 

I have semi-internet access once again (yay) and whilst I cannot promise a return to bi-monthly chapters I do hope to produce one per month (between eating, sleeping, working and intensive German lessons). I hope that this delay was an exception … for those of you who doubt the difficulty of gaining internet access etc in a foreign country, try it before you ask "How can it possibly take this long?"

Enough from me. Thank you all for reading, please leave a review, they make me very happy and think of me all alone in Germany:)

For updates on this fic please join:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Transi_de_Froid/

Comments, suggestions, criticisms, huge piles of money, publishing contracts, Babelfish send either to the list or to me seeker@slytherindungeon.net

Love always

__

~Incitata~


	13. Interlude

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.

~0~

****

Part Thirteen: Interlude

"I was grounded

While you filled the skies

I was dumfounded by truth

While you cut through lies"

__

The Whole of the Moon. Waterboys 1985

~0~

Hermione rested thetome in the crook of her arm and traipsed down the corridor hearing the door of the library swing shut behind her and the key of Madam Pince twist in the lock. It was like this every evening, at quarter to eight the librarian would begin to push round a trolley and place books back on the shelves and by the time eight o'clock struck she would begin to tap impatiently on her desk until the last students left the library. Usually that was Hermione and Draco but tonight he hadn't come. It didn't surprise Hermione, last time they had spoken … She shook her head, not wanting to think about that right now. Seeing Professor McGonagall ahead Hermione quickened her pace hoping that the teacher would understand.

"Professor," she began hesitantly.

"Ah, Miss Granger," McGonagall's dour cheeks lifting for a moment, "How can I help you?"

Falling in step beside McGonagall, Hermione summoned as much courage as she could and; "Could I possibly have an extension for your essay?" she blurted.

If McGonagall was surprised it didn't show in her step. 

"An extension?" 

No gasp of amazement, not even a raised eyebrow but when she began to reply Hermione detected an unusual squeakiness in her tone, "But isn't that due tomorrow?"

"Yes Professor but I've been so busy with…" 

__

With what? You can't tell her that you've been too distracted by Malfoy to even start it!

"Never mind Miss Granger, you can have two days, in all your time here you've never been late and if you need more time…" McGonagall sucked a breath in through her teeth as they turned the corner, "I'm sure you have a very good reason."

"Two days, oh thank you Professor, I…" that was him, turning up the stairs just as they had entered the corridor. 

__

I can catch him and… 

"I have to go. I'm sorry. Thank you." Hermione scurried through the archway not looking back at the bemused professor who watched where she had gone, tutting softly. But Hermione was too busy to care, listening to the set of footsteps that rang heavily down the stairwell as she tried to keep her own silent. She had an idea.

__

The exams are so close I should stay here. But with a few days…no libraries, no Quidditch, no distractions She stopped on the dark stair and leaned against the wall, it was a crazy idea, never going to work _… but how do I get him to agree?_

One more crazy idea, Hermione thought, picking loose the knot in her tie, with hasty fingers she unfastened the top button of her shirt and then undid two more_, it might work…_

She breathed deeply then squared her shoulders and continued up the stairs.

__

Had McGonagall seen him too, she wondered, doubt growing heavier with each step, _I know she would tell me that he's not worth all the effort, and that's why I have to do this. Then_ _I will know!_

Pausing in the doorway Hermione watched as Draco released his Eagle Owl into the darkening sky. She moved closer, her feet crunching loudly on the small bones that scattered the Owlery floor, breathing deeply whilst trying to ignore the smell of decay and damp feathers that mingled in the air. As Draco turned from the window she stopped. High above them the occasional yellow eye blinked out of deep feathers and wings rustled as the birds dreamed of the hunt, unconcerned by the humans beneath them.

"Your robes are trailing in the dust," she said, angling her hips with her weight on one leg, she folded her arms, trying to imitate the picture of a model in swirling low cut robes she had seen on the cover of Witch Weekly. 

Draco stepped towards her.

"Did you learn that look from Lavender?" he asked sliding his hand up into her hair and pulling her up straight as he kissed her. Draco drew back a little and tilted Hermione's chin to the left regarding her quizzically, "Or maybe from Pansy? She does a good line in impersonating a hussy."

Hermione flushed. It wasn't supposed to go like this, she stepped backwards wincing as her heel crushed a tiny skull into dust. "I wanted to ask you something."

"If you wanted to borrow my Owl it's a little late," he informed her, reaching out to deftly fasten one of the buttons on her blouse. A tingle ran through her body as his finger grazed her throat, "That's better, I don't want to wake up one morning and find you demanding payment." 

"Don't be nasty! You didn't come to see me tonight and there was something I wanted to ask you. Listen before you say no I know it sounds strange but really it's a good idea, tell me what you think."

Hermione paused expectantly.

"What I think about what?"

"About coming to visit me at Easter?" said Hermione unaware that in her rush she had forgotten to ask the question, "There are so many things I'd like to show you. We could actually have some time alone together, you could meet my parents and…"

"Slow down," said Draco raising his hand to stop Hermione before the torrent became unstoppable, "I have a better idea, you can come and visit me…"

Hermione shook her head and with effort managed not to snort, she wandered past Draco to the window where she could avoid looking at his face.

"…I have some arrangements I can't change and anyway, my parents are never there. Are you listening to me?" 

Hermione picked at her thumbnail, hearing the uncooperative edge harden his voice. Now the only unknown factor remaining was who would be the first to storm out of the room.

"Why is this such a problem for you?" he asked.

"Do we have to keep having this conversation?" she replied focussing on the pinprick of silver that hovered over the horizon. If wishing on stars was twaddle then she could lose nothing by asking this one to smile upon her dreams …but nothing could offset the staggering improbability of it all. 

__

No, she decided, _I can't let this one go! _She turned back to him brushing back her hair with both hands, "Draco, isn't it all just a little too convenient?"

"What? That you just find it impossible to see just a little way past your own prejudices? I would say _that_ is convenient…"

__

If you put it that way…

"… or are you calling my father a liar?"

__

I'm trying to forget that he even exists! she shrieked inside as she placing her hands over his, "Please Draco. My parents have never had a wizard to stay," she had to say something before their chance was lost, "three days, just before term begins. They really want to meet you."

It was partly true, they did want to meet her new boyfriend, she had just neglected to tell them exactly who it was … 

"No wizards? Ever?" he savoured the words, finding something to his taste. "Not even boy wonder?" 

Hermione let out a soft breath and curled her fingers around his. "Never ever." She could see him considering, calculating, he was going to…

"I still don't know," he said shaking his head so that his hair fell into his eyes, "I…"

"You're worried," sensing victory, she smiled and squeezed his hands, "I know you've never been to a Muggle house but Draco, it'll be fun and anyway, I sort of already told them that you were coming."

Draco sucked in a deep breath and looked down at Hermione, "There's a very ugly word for what you've just done," he said.

~0~

Not knowing quite how Crookshanks would react to her visitor, Hermione had left her cat in the care of Hagrid. She knew the gamekeeper wasn't really fond of cats, but she was also aware that the moment the door of Hagrid's hut opened Crookshanks would bolt back to Gryffindor tower and install himself by the fireplace until her return. 

__

As long as he doesn't acquire any new pets in the meantime, she thought as she walked quietly beside her friends who carried her trunk between them, swearing loudly each time they banged their knees on the rigid metal edges. 

"I can't believe you're taking yourself away from the library with exams what…?"

"Only ten or twelve weeks away!" finished Ron.

"I think she's finally got the right idea," Harry quipped, clapping Hermione on the shoulder and bringing her halfway back to reality, they had reached Hogsmeade already. 

"At least at home I'll not have you two disturbing me," she snapped, "I might just get some real work done."

All around them students clambered aboard the train yelling to one another in an effort to be heard above the din of slamming doors and the thrum of resting engines. Between them Harry and Ron lugged Hermione's trunk on board then leapt down to join her on the platform.

"Take care," said Ron giving her a hug, "come back to us soon."

"You make it sound as though you think I might change my mind about coming back," she accused shaking her head, as he turned to grin at Harry.

"We should be so lucky," he quipped turning to grin at Harry.

"You think I'd let you off that easily?" retorted Hermione

The guard who stared pointedly at an enormous pocket watch began to stare at them before raising his whistle to his lips and blowing twice.

"Keep him out of trouble Harry," she said throwing her arms around him. "And Ron, you keep him out of trouble. Owl me if you have any problems." 

A third shrill _Phhhweeeeeeeeeeeee _pierced the air and Hermione dashed forward before the guard sent the train away without her.

__

I miss you, she thought as Harry helped her up the metal step and Ron slammed the door shut behind her. _I miss what we had before everything, I want you to know you can still rely on me_ …_You have hours to feel guilty, just say goodbye, _she told herself as she poked her head through the open window. "And both of you take care of Crookshanks."

"We'll Owl," called Harry waving as the engine began to rumble and the train edged forward, Hermione waved in return and tried to forget how much they would hate her if they knew how she was going to be spending her holidays.

~0~

Hermione lingered in an empty carriage, watching through the window while students and families crowded the platform waiting to filter slowly back into Muggle London. By the time she left her seat and dragged her trunk to the door the platform was almost empty, she tugged again but the trunk moved easily, she looked round and discovered that it was because it was hovering just three inches above the floor of the train. Draco stood behind it leaning against the opposite door with his arms folded; he tapped his wand against one elbow. 

"Magic outside term time, Draco!" she scolded.

"Carry it if you prefer," and with a flick of the wand the trunk thudded back down onto the carriage floor. He took the other handle and together they lowered the trunk onto a waiting trolley.

She hopped down and began to push the trolley toward the wrought iron archway that curved over the platform. "Where's yours?" she asked as he came up behind her.

"Gone, I came back because I thought you might need some help. I knew you wouldn't know when it is okay to bend the rules, and when not." He slipped his arm around her and propelled the trolley forward.

"People will see."

"There's no-one left to see," he said whispering in her ear, "unless you count him." He jerked his thumb toward the end of the platform where between the porters pushing empty trolleys to and fro stood Malfoy's father. "Don't look so worried," said Draco, "there's no problem."

Her left hand tightened around the handle of the trolley and Hermione fought not to take her other arm from Draco's waist and dig in her bag for her wand. 

"Just relax," he muttered, "I want to prove to you that there is no problem."

__

Do you enjoy making me uncomfortable? she thought casting Draco a venomous look, _It's okay, you're in public, he can't do anything…_she told herself, aware that they were getting closer and closer and finding her breath uneven as she recalled with utmost clarity the way he had treated her last time they had met.

"You took your time," observed Mr Malfoy softly.

__

Not so much as a glance, sweat prickled uncomfortably on her forehead and her blouse began to stick to her back where it was caught between clammy skin and Draco's arm.

"I was helping Hermione," said Draco. Mr Malfoy blinked slowly and turned his head to peer down at her. 

"Ah yes, Miss Granger," Malfoy's smile disturbed Hermione more than anything else he could have done, it positively radiated warmth. She had never seen him do much other than sneer and she had to admit that the effect was dazzling, like the sun breaking through a stormcloud but it didn't warm his eyes which scrutinised her. Unperturbed by her silence he continued. "You will forgive me for being brief but my wife is waiting." 

__

I ought to say something at least, she thought but he was already turning away, his hands linked loosely behind his back.

"My son will visit as arranged."

Draco stuck out his tongue behind his father and turned to Hermione, raising her hands to his lips, "Two weeks then," he said before kissing her fingertips and moving away.

Hermione's arms fell slowly to her sides as she watched them walk away making a mental note to write to the Church of England to enquire about that days weather in Hell. 

~0~

Four days before the end of the Easter holiday, at ten in the morning a gleaming Bentley pulled smoothly into the tree lined road, the sheen on the black bonnet reflecting the spring sunlight so brightly that even the least observant of onlookers wuold wonder if the car had ever truly encountered the dust of the road. From behind its darkened windows Draco Malfoy could see shady gardens edged by overgrown hedges and wrought iron gates that hid crumbling Victorian villas from full view. It was clearly a road that had grown comfortable with its identity and felt no need to smarten itself up. About half way along the car slowed and pulled up alongside a gnarled lime tree surrounded by cracked uneven paving stones.

"Thank you, Garak," said Draco. As the goblin held the door he looked at the house fronted by a garden, "I'll take that," he said extracting his bag from between the servants long fingers, "My other things should be delivered directly to school." As the car pulled away Draco reached forward and pushed open the gate; it scraped alone the ground, deepening the rusty arc that scored the driveway. 

With the battered Gladstone bag in one hand and a tired bouquet of roses in the other Draco approached the house. It wasn't home but at least she didn't live in the middle of some ghastly little suburb and though it might be faded the place possessed a memory of grandeur. Passing the window he leaned forward and shading his eyes with his hand tried to peer through; a blind blocked his view. Draco shrugged and continued on his way.

__

Mother would love it, he thought as a breeze played the trailing branches of a willow that curtained the doorway, bringing to his lips the tang of salt and an unmistakable hint of bladderwrack left on the shore for too long.

"Hello," he said to the knob that sat in the centre of the black painted door, "Hello?" tracing his fingers expectantly across the polished numbers. 

__

No reply?

Draco's eyes roamed the frame, searching for the bell pull and then to the left he spotted a wooden panel in the centre of which lay a round disk. He made out the word 'Push' scribed in peeling painted letters, a remnant from when such things were new. Carefully balancing the flowers agaisnt his arm, he extended a finger and did this. Somewhere within a bell rang.

A minute, maybe two and he heard footsteps behind the door, the clicking of a lock and the door swung inwards. He saw Hermione.

"Draco!" she exclaimed blinking against the glare of the morning sun, before throwing her arms around him and nearly knocking him backwards off the doorstep, "Come in." 

Draco tried to see beyond Hermione into the darkened hallway. It was cool and dim, lit only by dusty daylight that streamed from somewhere high above. She led him straight past a closed door to the right; through a connecting door and into a short passageway. To the left rose a staircase and ahead, standing open was the door to an airy kitchen.

"Most of the downstairs is my parents surgery, there's a separate entrance round the side" she explained, "It makes more sense than renting premises. We live on the other floors."

"Surgery? Are they medics?" he enquired with polite disinterest, dropping his bag with a thud at the foot of the stairs.

"No, they have a small private dental practice and Mum also lectures at the University Medical School."

Draco smiled weakly at Hermione. He wasn't about to admit that the concept of dentistry was not familiar. In his experience any competent Medimage could deal with all manner of maladies, no need to specialise in particular body parts.

"I brought these for your mother," he said holding out the yellow blooms. "From the Summer Courtyard."

"Lovely," Hermione took the roses and swept off into the kitchen. Draco followed, taking in the frozen images that decked the walls, wondering if this was her idea of revenge. 

At the far end of the room was a conservatory stuffed with leafy plants and through these he could see the garden, that promised to be every bit as rambling as the house. A glass topped bamboo framed table stood here half hidden with papers, books and pens of both Muggle and Magical origin. He smiled appreciatively, and turned to Hermione who was filling the sink with water having already placed roses against its edge. 

"I'll find a vase later." She said over her shoulder, "Sorry about the mess, it drives Dad crazy but Mum disorganises the place as quickly as he can tidy." pausing as if she felt an explanation was necessary, "They're busy people."

"It's fine," said Draco. Naturally without staff for that sort of thing a house would become a tip, just Draco never thought he would have been able to stand it but really he was quite amazed at the effect. The casual observer would have overlooked the copy of _Fantastic Beasts_ that peeped out from beneath the papers, dismissed the copper cauldron as a fancy plantpot and assumed the robe belonged to a university lecturer…

__

Or does it? 

Draco knew very little of 'normal' Muggles, like Mudbloods (present company excepted) he assumed them to be mundane creatures, ill at ease with themselves and the world. 

He imagined that this was not a 'normal' Muggle house.

A blur before his eyes. Hermione waving a hand in front of them, "Shall I show you your room?" she asked mischievously.

"What?" his brow creasing in mock consternation, "Am I not sharing with you?"

"Draco, really! Don't say anything like that in front of my parents. Come on now," Back into the hallway. She grabbed his bag and before he could take it from her, led the way up the stairs.

"Bathroom," said Hermione as they reached the landing, "There's a loo downstairs too," she said as they went up three small steps to another hallway. "Living room is through there but we never use it much, this is my parents room and this is the guest room,"

Hermione pushed open the door to a small but bright room and stood back so that Draco could enter. A double bed stood in the centre against the chimneybreast and under the window on top of a chest of drawers stood a bowl of dried leaves. Against the other wall was a large oak wardrobe with an oval mirror on the front. Draco rested one hand against it, tasting the tinge of polish and mothballs in the air.

"I used to think that wardrobe led to another world," said Hermione brightly, dropping Draco's bag on the bed, "of course that's silly," Draco raised an eyebrow.

__

Obviously you've never been troubled by bogeymen, he thought, then drawn by the thrum of passing cars he tugged aside the curtain and looked down on the road, deciding it was best not to make an issue of that. Even the wizarding world was reluctant to admit the existence of those particular monsters.

"I want to show you my room." Draco allowed her to take his hand and pull him up more stairs and to a narrow L shaped landing lit from a skylight above. He peered down over the banister through sparkling dust to the ground floor while Hermione went into her room.

By the time he joined her, Hermione was sitting on her bed with one leg drawn up beneath her. 

Though the window stood open the drone of traffic, so loud at the front of the house was muffled by the swish of trees in the back garden. 

Glancing at the wallpaper Draco surmised that the room had not been decorated for some years, unless of course Hermione took secret delight in small pink ponies. In the far corner stood a large dolls house which was dwarfed by a set of shelves bursting with books that loomed behind it.

In the opposite corner was a wrought iron fireplace painted white and in it blazed a display of fiery red dried flowers. Under the window was a desk and when he looked at the stack of scrolls he smiled. There was no attempt to hide what she was, she attached no shame to the fact that she was a witch and he guessed that her parents must also be happy with the idea.

Most interesting he thought was the awkward juxtaposition of possessions. Draco suspected that before she arrived at Hogwarts, Hermione had to struggle between allowing her intelligence to show and fitting in with the other Muggles. Now her school things jarred against the Muggle things, he thought it bizarre but it was the Muggle objects that seemed out of place in this room. He chuckled softly.

"It just doesn't seem worth redecorating," she said demonstrating an uncanny ability, if not to read minds, to guess what he was thinking, "It helps when I come back to remind me not to be magical. We did get the fireplace in here unblocked, it's quite a feature. My parents had to sign all sorts of forms at the ministry but it makes things so much easier."

But Draco wasn't really listening, he leaned over her desk, eyes skimming over a piece of work and picked up the quill that lay across it, "You still use this?" Draco asked smoothing the feather with his fingers.

"Yes," he sat next to her on the bed and the too soft mattress bent beneath his weight. The corner of his lips pricked up, wonderfully aware that he was seeing a side of her that neither Potter or Weasley had ever seen. In this room was the true Hermione and despite the mugglish aspects he liked it. 

His arm crept around her shoulders, "You never cease to amaze me, Hermione," he said, tickling her nose with the feather, "fancy trying to forget that you are magical, you can't ever deny…"

A door slammed. 

"Hermione!" someone called, "You in? Has your friend arrived yet?"

__

Friend?

"Come on, meet my Mum."

"Perfect timing," muttered Draco as Hermione grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet. He had wanted to stall her, he had never really been prepared for such a situation.

__

Forget they're Muggles, he told himself as he crept down the stairs in Hermione's shadow, _Just pretend they're people._

Then they were back in the kitchen and Draco found himself staring at a woman surrounded by open cupboards and dozens of rustly plastic bags. As she looked up her glasses dropped off the end of her nose and swung against her blouse, suspended from a thin gold chain. She had hair just like Hermione's, unruly and held at bay with a biting plastic clip but tinged with grey.

__

Just people!

"Mum, this is my friend from Hogwarts…" 

Draco glanced at Hermione, looking for some support, or maybe some unspoken signal on how to behave. In a moment the introduction would be over and then…

"… Dra – Dennis, Dennis Creevy!"

His head turned slowly, nausea building in his chest. With one hand he scratched his brow and the other he rested on the kitchen bench, feeling unsteady as the Grangers looked on expectantly.

"Nice to meet you Dennis," said Mrs Granger kindly, rummaging in one of her bags.

"Delighted," Draco spluttered, not quite able to comprehend what had just happened. 

"Would you put these in the fridge dear." Hermione snatched the bag slipped round behind her mother and pulled open a large door. Draco stared mutely as she mouthed words that could have been 'sorry' or 'please' but he didn't really care about that, he wanted to know what the hell she though she was doing and he wanted to know very soon.

"Hermione talks all the time about her schoolfriends but we haven't really met many of them. So, you're the boy with the camera, aren't you?"

Draco's mouth hung open. He somehow managed to breath though he felt as though his head had lost the connection to his body and with it he had lost the ability to speak.

"Mum, that's Colin" Hermione said desperately, filling the silence.

"Oh, sorry Dennis," Mrs Granger smiled encouragingly at Draco as she rubbed her glasses on the corner of her blouse and placed them back on her nose, "So you're in the year below Hermione?"

Draco blinked, gagging as sensation streamed back into his limbs. He was hot and uncomfortable in the most mugglish outfit he owned and he had worn it for her, that snivelling little Mudblood who … He raised his hand from the bench and glanced down at the shimmering outline that faded as he watched before plucking at a spot of nothing on his sleeve. 

"I…" he croaked, forcing himself to look at Hermione's Mother.

"No mum, that's Colin! Dennis is in his fourth year."

"Really, that must be nice." Mrs Grangers eyes flicked to her daughter than back to Draco "Are you in the same house as Hermione?" she asked as though not quite sure that he understood English.

"Actually…" Draco began, choking down the jet of bile that soured his tongue.

"Yes! Dennis is a Gryffindor too."

"And are Dennis's parents wizards?"

Draco had the feeling that this question was directed at Hermione not he. This charade had gone on long enough so unwilling to participate in whatever game Hermione was playing Draco cleared his throat and…

"My family are…"

"…Are just like us," Hermione interrupted snatching the last package from her mother, flinging it into the cupboard and closing the door with a bang, then frantically stuffed the empty bags in the drawer. "What time is lunch?" she asked, "I want to show Dennis the garden."

"Just let me know when you're hungry," sighed Mrs Granger.

Without another word Hermione grabbed Draco's arm and hustled him through the back door, he moved easily. At that moment the slightest breeze could have sent him tumbling to the floor.

The afternoon air was cool after the kitchen, Draco was dimly aware of Hermione's hand on his arm, his other hung limply at his side as he counted each soundless step across the lawn. Hermione led him through an archway in a wooden trellis draped with winding branches that that screened the far end of the garden from the house.

__

Enough.

A twist. Draco held her wrist firmly in his grasp, pressed against her hip. His other secured her body, tight against his, he glowered wishing that he could harm her just by glaring down into her eyes. They were misted by confusion and suddenly a hint of fear.

"Draco, you're hurting me," Hermione's body tensed as she tried to twist her wrist from his grasp and to pull him away with the other that reached uselessly behind his back. He responded by squeezing her wrist a little harder.

"Draco!" she gasped.

"But I'm Dennis," he snarled, feeling her shrink, "of all the things you could have done to me Hermione, you filthy piece of Mudblood…"

"Draco!"

"Just get away from me," he spat shoving her aside. He heard the gravel crunch as she fell and he stopped by a weathered wooden bench using every ion of will he possessed not to turn to her. "Bitch," he muttered sweeping his hand across his sticky forehead.

"Please Draco, listen to me," she begged, her feet on the gravel, coming nearer, nearer. He shrugged, reflex knocking away the hand she laid upon his shoulder. He turned.

"You are pathetic!" He breathed, leaning very close, "I heard you. You are afraid to say my name to that Muggle!"

"_That Muggle_ is my mother," she protested.

"I told my father exactly who you were." 

"Only because you had no choice."

"Nothing changes the fact that you lied about who I am," retorted Draco no longer willing to pursue that particualr line of argument.

"Please understand," Hermione lifted her hands as if about to touch him then she drew back, unsure.

"I understand!" he growled, "They don't even know about us, do they?"

"That's fairly obvious," she mumbled but Draco wasn't interested in rhetoric. 

"Why Colin Creevy?" he questioned.

"Dennis Creevy," corrected Hermione.

"Who the hell is Dennis Creevy?"

"Colin Creevy's little brother," she confessed.

"_What?_" any remnant of cool Draco had kept evaporated, that was too much "A Gryffindor Potter worshipping sap!"

"Yes, no you're not that you're Draco. I love you, I…"

"Am ashamed to be with me," he offered, "Forget this, I've had enough. I'll make it very easy."

"Wait!" 

Feeling Hermione hang heavily on his arm Draco stopped. He could fling her away and go and then it would all be done, no more fears, no more lies just a bit of good old fashioned hate and as he recalled they were very practised at hating one another. He caught a glimpse of her face damp, desperate and tried not to look, not to weaken, but she continued to cling just long enough for his anger to ebb a little.

"It's just what they know about wizards," she sobbed

"Oh yeah?" he said, loosening her fingers from around his arm. He held her hands for a second then let them drop, as his lips twisted into a humourless approximation of a smile, "Any particular wizards?"

"I don't understand," she sniffed.

"I thought you were supposed to be intelligent."

"Don't be horrible."

"Like telling your parents that my name is Dennis?"

"I'm trying to explain."

"Well this is going to be good." Draco sat down on the bench, hoping that the moss that clung to the frame wouldn't mark his clothes. Noticing that Hermione was about to sit beside him he swivelled round and stretched out his legs placing his feet firmly on the arm of the bench, the other arm dug annoyingly into his back but he considered that pain worth it if it added to her discomfort.

"I was about to say who you were, I didn't plan it but that name just slipped out and they know about you I…"

"Wait there! What precisely do they know about me?"

"Well how you make trouble for my friends, how you loathe anyone of Muggle origin."

"Is that all?" he sneered," and you had me thinking they'd heard something bad about me."

"They wouldn't understand."

"Your parents are so narrow minded that they wouldn't even give me one chance?"

"Everything I told them was true, how can I suddenly say that it doesn't matter anymore?"

"So, you can't forgive me for what I may have done in the past?"

"No, I could forgive you anything. I love you Draco. Please understand, you can't help the way you were brought up."

"Nor, it seems can you. It must be nice to love in such a black and white world, it's all so clear for you isn't it? Hermione can't tell her friends because they wouldn't understand, she can't tell her family because they wouldn't understand. What about me Hermione, what about Draco he doesn't understand, he doesn't understand any of this and particularly he doesn't understand why he was foolish enough to fall in love with a girl who places everyone else she knows so far above him."

"Please, that's not how it is. I'll tell them, I will."

"But it's never the right moment is it? What's it going to take before you can bring yourself to tell them? Marriage? The birth of your first secret child? I can't do this anymore. I will not do this anymore."

"I will tell them."

"When?"

"Summer, at the start of the holidays, I'll tell them then,"

"Tell them now." 

"Summer."

"Okay," he agreed reluctantly, "But if you back out again I will tell them myself."

Hermione nodded forlornly as her mothers voice sailed down the garden;

"Lunch is ready!"

"Come here," said Draco standing and extending his hand to her, "You're a mess and we don't want youi mother thinking that Colin makes her daughter cry do we?"

"Why do you have to be so patronising?" Hermione asked finding it impossible to understand how he could swing so smoothly between rage and tenderness. She took his hand and wondered why he had given in so easily.

~0~

Throughout lunch Draco was reserved and sullen, he had not forgiven Hermione, no matter what he had told her and he had no intention of giving the Grangers a good impression of any Creevys. If Hermione chose to reveal who he really was then he might as well give them a reason to dislike him. Every attempt from Mrs Granger to draw him into conversation was met with a shrug in the end she gave up trying and instead proceeded to tell him at length about their experience 'since we found Hermione was a witch'.

"… We never really thought such things happened but what a fascinating world it is. There are all sorts of ways that Muggle families can make it easier for their magical relatives, if you can get the correct forms signed. But I'm sure you already know that. A bit bureaucratic, but so far we have an off peak connection to the Floo Network…"

__

I most certainly did not know that! Like her daughter, Mrs Granger had a tendency to talk quickly when she was nervous and whilst in Hermione, Draco found the trait endearing it made him want to hex Mrs Grangers lips off

"… a licence to grow magical medicinal herbs in the garden and a magical dampening field so that Hermione can do her Transfiguration homework during the holidays, that Mr Weasley has been a tremendous help." 

Draco recalled that he had seen Mrs Granger once before. Then she had struck him as rather shifty but he had to concede that most people appeared nervous when they unexpectedly found his father peering down his nose at them.

"I'm sure," he said through a barely disguised yawn, "I hear they can make one roast chicken last a week!" he remarked smirking at Hermione.

"Really? Well, that's magic for you," replied Mrs Granger who appeared to be on the verge of enquiring further then declined.

"Magic, Yes." Agreed Draco flatly, _Or poverty, take your pick!_

Mrs Granger picked up an empty jug and pushed back her chair, "I'll get some more orange juice shall I?" 

"What was that all about?" asked Hermione as soon as her mother was out of earshot.

"I'm sorry, if you'd given me time to rehearse for this performance I may actually have known who I was supposed to be playing."

"You promised to behave."

"So curse me!"

"Just be nice."

"I'm being Dennis. Don't blame me."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond but she was interrupted by the arrival of a neat little man who came in the room talking loudly.

"I just had to remove two of the Conrad boys teeth," he said, "his parents never listen. Next time I swear I'll just rip them all out and my work will be done."

Draco's eyes widened in disbelief as the man casually shrugged off his coat and dropped it on a chair. He looked askance at Hermione.

"You must be Hermione's friend," the man said pleasantly. Draco for his part wondered what sort of fiend he was looking at unaware that his hand was rubbing tentatively along his jaw. Draco forced himself to his feet and said.

"Hello Mr Granger." Shaking Hermione's father's hand with as much grace as he could muster. "I'm Dennis, Dennis Creevy."

"Nice to meet you." Mr Granger said curtly, his lips narrowed as if he had just remembered something he preferred to forget. "Hermione, I just saw Paul from next door he was asking about Saturday."

Draco raised his glass to his lips and slowly let the tangy juice flow over his tongue; he wasn't aware of any Paul … until now.

"I said I'd go and watch him play but that was before I knew you and mum had arranged to go away. We thought we might go back to school a day early…"

__

Did we? Thought Draco, _that must have been a brief conversation because I don't recall having it._

"… we can get a train to Hogsmeade, it's not as fast as the Express and stops everywhere between London and Appleby but we should be there by dark. I asked Ron about it."

"That sounds good. We were going to suggest that you stayed here but if that's all arranged … anyway, I'm sure you both want to get back to see Ron and Harry."

"Oh yes," snorted Draco biting the inside of his cheek, seeing the opportunity to see Hermione without the Muggles interfering slip further and further away.

~0~

"Have you forgiven me yet?" asked Hermione later as they climbed the stairs.

"Who is Paul?" Draco asked quietly pausing on the stair behind her. 

"Surely you don't think…" Hermione turned to look down at him and when she began to smile Draco felt a little hurt. "You're jealous," she accused.

"Why did you say we'd go back early?" he reached out and placed his hands upon her waist feeling the curve of her hip beneath the fabric of her shirt with his thumb.

"You should see your face. Wouldn't you rather spend the journey with me rather than in a train crammed with students? It takes hours and…"

"You're very cruel Hermione," he pushed his hands round to meet in the small of her back and drew her forward until they were standing eye to eye, "and I see now where you get it from."

"What do you mean?" her eyes were smiling but her voice was puzzled.

"Your father pulls out peoples teeth, that's gruesome."

"It's his job, Draco." Hearing a step Draco jumped back and tried to look innocent as Mrs Granger appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Mum, do you mind if I show Dennis your surgery? He's ... really interested."

Mrs Granger's brow wrinkled as if something was greatly troubling her, "Go ahead dear," she said, but Draco was left with the odd feeling that it was he.

Hermione led him down to the hallway and through the plain white door into a cream coloured room furnished with two sofas and a low coffee table. A desk stood in the corner near a door which appeared to lead deeper into the house. Blinds screened the window and though Draco had the impression that the room was designed to make him feel relaxed the muscles in his shoulders tensed, perhaps it was the lingering air of apprehension. 

"They read do they?" he asked sarcastically bending to fan out a pile of magazines that lay on a low coffee table. He glanced for a moment at the bland manufactured expressions on the front of 'Hello!' He was not impressed.

"Through here." Hermione pushed open the door but let her guest go in first.

He recognised the garden, visible through the back window but all else was barely recognisable as the same house, this room was ordered and clinically clean. The smell was stronger here, astringent and faintly reminiscent of mint. 

His attention focussed immediately on the chair in the middle of the room and he found himself wondering where the manacles were secured. A fearsome looking arm grew out of one side, this he swung back and forth before sitting down. From here Draco could see the contents of a bright steel tray that stood on a tall, wheeled trolley. He reached out and plucked one of the long, thin metal tools from amongst the array prodding his finger uncertainly with the tip. 

"What are you laughing at?" he asked Hermione. She was somewhere behind him but he didn't bother looking round then a light flashed on above him and a high pitched whine droned in his ears, it was getting closer and closer. He shoved the light out of his way and saw Hermione standing nearby with a small and very precise drill.

"What the hell is that for?" he asked stiffly.

"Open wide," she said, "It's a drill … for teeth!"

"You're insane!" Draco leapt out of the chair and put the tall trolley between them, struggling to keep his voice smooth. "That's barbaric! You don't need to drill teeth or pull them out, you can grow new ones, everyone knows that."

"Not Muggles, Draco, they can't grow new teeth with some carefully applied Skele-Grow, they need to take care of what they have."

"Turn that thing off!" he demanded. The sound was making him feel sick and he had suddenly found a new respect for Hermione's parents, he would never had thought they had it in them. "And people pay them for this sort of torture?" he asked, recalling something his father had once told him, _'Muggles are dangerous, never forget that.'_ this was the most conclusive evidence for that that Draco had ever seen.

"I had no idea you were so squeamish," Hermione chuckled, "Anyway, mum does say that no one really wants to come to the dentist but half a day of toothache is enough to change anyone's mind." She squeezed the drill once more and Draco shuddered. "The marvels of modern Muggle medicine."

"You can keep it!" he said sourly. 

~0~

"I don't have any money," admitted Draco as they stepped out into the misty Friday 

morning, "any Muggle money that is."

"I have," said Hermione pushing up the corners of his mouth into the semblance of a smile, "You're really going to enjoy today."

"I'd enjoy staying here with you." 

"Draco, what's the point of being here if you don't see it. I want you to see some of the Muggle world, you'll like it."

"I have my wand and I will not hesitate to use it." he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of the thick black coat which swirled around his ankles. Hermione had suggested he wear something 'more normal' but Draco had insisted although he knew that when the mist burned away he would regret it.

"Idiot, you don't need it."

"The right to carry a wand at all times was established in 1692 and I notice you have yours."

"Safety first," Hermione grinned, "Doesn't the rule only apply to fully qualified wizards?"

"I won't tell if you won't. Imagine if…" but before he could finish a voice interrupted, people in this town seemed to like yelling to one another. He watched as a stocky boy about their age ran up to the gate.

"Hermione," he said sweeping his hair off his glistening forehead, "Are you still on for Saturday?"

"Hi Paul, oh, this is Dennis, a boy from my school. Dennis, this is Paul, my neighbour."

__

A boy from my school?

"Hi Dennis?" Paul grinned, extending a hairy arm and offering Draco a broad hand. 

Draco looked at the boys hand but didn't take it, he wasn't yet ready to befriend a Muggle. He merely nodded his head in greeting, casting a critical eye over _Paul_ who appeared not to own a mirror. His sandy hair was dishevelled, he was sweating and he was wearing a pair of baggy trousers and a red top that he, Draco would never have deigned to own let alone wear in public.

"Great." Paul lowered his hand seemingly unaware of the slight then sipped audibly from a small plastic bottle he held in one meaty hand. "If you're staying with Herm why don't you come too? We're playing West Park."

Draco assumed that he was meant to understand what this boy was talking about but Hermione spoke before he had time to say anything.

"We go back to school on Saturday."

"Oh bad luck, I don't go back until next week. Give me a call when you get home for summer Herm, maybe we can pick up where we left off." As Paul winked Draco was reminded uncomfortably of Fink-Letchley, he had no intention of letting _that_ happen again.

"We never started Paul!" replied Hermione, smiling in a way that had Draco reaching for his wand, if _Paul_ didn't take his hand off her shoulder he was going to lose it, forget the rules about mixing magic and Muggles… never mind the … "We have to go. Draco, here's our bus. I'll call you."

Draco bit his lip and glared over his shoulder at Paul, saying nothing to Hermione, who appeared not to have noticed that anything was wrong.

~0~

That evening after dinner Mr and Mrs Granger made their excuses and went upstairs to watch television leaving Draco and Hermione alone in the kitchen. As the sky grew dark he saw something very welcome, probably the first 'normal' thing he'd seen since he arrived here. A large owl swooped overhead and perched on a trestle outside the conservatory before tapping on the window with its beak.

"Hedwig," said Hermione rushing to open the door. She came back and looked sheepishly at Draco, "They are allowed to write to me," she said plucking a few grapes from the bunch that hung over the edge of the fruit bowl and holding them out for the bird.

"Doesn't bother me," lied Draco, wondering what could be in the letter. "May I use that owl?" he enquired as an afterthought, "I didn't bring my own."

Hermione's hesitation did not surprise him, _Potter's owl… _"Never mind," he said anticipating her objection, "then may I use your Floo?"

"It's only for emergencies," explained Hermione, "It's very hard to get a none wizarding house connected, my parents went to a lot of trouble and I don't want them to lose the licence."

"Very well," Draco clapped his hands together and sighed, "I'll find a post office. I forgot to pack some of my books I only want to remind Mother to send them on."

"I suppose it's alright if you use Hedwig."

"No, you're obviously not comfortable with the idea of me sending Potters owl home." He leaned forward as if deep in thought then suddenly his face brightened, "I'll send her to a friend who can forward the note, that owl will never even have to go near my house." 

Hermione seemed satisfied with that and returned quickly to her letter. He peered at her from beneath lowered lashes feeling that there was certain irony in this method of forwarding. He took a quill and a sheet of plain white paper. She was much too engrossed to see the words he scribbled before he folded the sheet in three and sealed it with a blob of wax. He flipped over the paper and printed an address on the front sending the owl on its way without another thought.

~0~

Draco stood back as Hermione said goodbye to her parents beneath the departures board at Kings Cross then offered his own stiff handshake then he and Hermione were finally alone. He placed his bag on top of her trunk and pushed the trolley through the crowd glancing at the faces as he passed, old, tired, ugly, lacking hope, lacking identity. He wrapped his arm protectively around Hermione's shoulder shielding her from the masses, all so obsessed with their petty insignificant little lives, he would save Hermione from all that, if she would let him.

As they boarded the train, drawn by a small puffing steam engine a crocodile of tiny witches and wizards trooped past, kept in check by the booming voice of their teacher. Draco winced at the sound and focussed instead on the elderly witch helped to her seat by a porter. 

"I always wondered about that," said Hermione as she leaning against the window to the stream of scarlet cloaks blur in the distance. 

"St Elpheges," Draco said tiredly, "and if I'm not mistaken those were the dulcet tones of Miss Hemmen giving them their orders."

"You know the place?"

"Englands foremost magical prep school. You didn't think we all stayed at home before Hogwarts did you?" he said struggling to get comfortable on the cracked leather chair. "Miss Hemmen is quite a fixture, actually I went there myself, until I was expelled."

"You were expelled?" she leaned forward, prurient interest flashing in her eyes.

"You seem surprised that I lived to tell the tale," which actually wasn't far from the truth, "It was no big deal, just a misunderstanding over a practical joke."

"What happened?"

"Promise you won't judge me?" but Hermione's look said _I'm not making any such promise_. Draco felt trapped, the train was pulling away from the station and Hermione crossed into the seat opposite and simply stared at him. He feared that she would continue to stare unless he told her his story, instead he began to study the crumpled headline of a discarded newspaper that lay beneath her seat.

"Well," she asked when he finally looked up. 

"Okay," not willing to spend the next seven hours in silence he gave in, "I was on a school trip, very much like that one you just saw. Another boy and I got lost … actually we deliberately lost the group. We ended up hanging around Kings Cross. Anyway we were getting bored and two Muggle girls started laughing at us for wearing red cloaks. We decided to teach them a lesson for laughing at us. We told them that we were wizards and that the cloaks gave us special powers and that we knew a way into another world."

"I don't want to hear this," Hermione folded her arms and turned away.

"You asked me so you are going to hear it whether you like it or not,"

"I'll not listen," she said.

Draco was about to continue but as the train pulled out of Puddlemere and rain began to pour from the clouded sky, lashing against the windows a thin woman dragged open the door. After both she and her hat scrutinised the couple for two minutes she took the seat in the corner opposite Hermione placing a large red handbag between herself and Draco. From within she extracted a book and proceeded to flick the pages over and over irritably whilst eyeing her companions from behind it.

After hours of pretending not to look at one another the train pulled into Appleby and the woman stood up, straightened her hat and left the compartment, swinging her handbag into the door to close it.

"Well," said Hermione tersely.

"I thought you didn't want to hear it," he said doing a very bad impression of Hermione.

"I you ever want to speak to me again I think you should finish."

"It's a tempting offer but I'll finish. They believed us and we took them through the barrier to the platform, that soon shut them up. Then we hid and watched them try to get out. They were trapped and scared and we found it funny. Half an hour later our teacher came back and made us join the rest of the class. By then we were bored and had forgotten all about the girls. I think it was seven hours later they were found crying underneath a bench. They must have remembered who we were because at supper the headmistress summoned the pair of us to her office. Our parents were there," Draco pasued and bit his bottom lip, "I can still see mother wringing her hands, and we were both expelled. I was home by the end of that day."

"How could you do something like that, you must have known." She accused.

"I was eight Hermione, tell me you didn't do anything stupid when you were eight."

Hermione said nothing, she merely stared at Draco, unable to imagine how anyone could be so utterly unaware of the consequences of their actions. She blinked back a tear and looked down at her hands.

"I'm sorry I told you, but I thought you wanted to know me, even the ugly parts."

"What happened next?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing. I thought for a moment I might not reach my ninth birthday. wWhen we got into the car. My father just sat there for a very long time saying nothing then eventually he said that I must not take amusement in such things, that he had worked hard to keep the family where it was, to clear our name. He explained that such behaviour from me might undo all that work if it were to become known. He felt it was his failing that I did not understand." Draco shook his head and turned to look out of the window. "I had tutors after that."

Hermione raised her eyes, he was leaning away from her, his hair flopping into his eyes which she could see surreptitiously watching her in the reflection, he blinked but did not acknowledge her. 

__

He was eight, she told herself, _it was a mean prank but he's obviously sorry and he obviously didn't know any better. He trusted me enough to tell me, I can't condemn him for that, not after what I just did to him._

"Draco," she said getting up and taking the seat next to him reaching out to shift the hair from his eyes and to turn his face to hers. His jaw stiffened and did not follow her hand round, "I don't approve but I'm glad you told me, it can't have been easy."

"I can't change the past," he turned then and she saw his eyes, glittering and damp "or my family."

"You can tell me anything," said Hermione leaning her head on his shoulder she felt his breath warm in her hair as he pulled her close. She squeezed up against him as a tear battled it wa out and fell heavily onto his thigh.

"Don't cry," he said, "Soon we can forget all this. The pretence, the feigned hate. The summer, just like you said and seriously, if Father can understand then those two should find it a doddle. You will tell them, won't you?"

"Of course I will." Though she wasn't sure she meant it, she wasn't sure she could.

They returned separately to Hogwarts to resume if temporarily the pretence of hating one another. Easter had answered one question for Hermione, Draco was worth the trouble and whilst it would be difficult she could do it, couldn't she? Tell Ron, tell Harry and she had to make it up to Draco somehow, for what she had done. 

Hermione smiled weakly at the Fat Lady and gave the password stepping once again into the Gryffindor Tower and leaving Draco far behind her.

~0~

Long before dawn on Saturday a strong wind blew beneath Hedwig's soft wide wings. She struggled on through the less than ideal flying conditions with a determined owlish pride. Out of the scrub, a cottage, once white appeared, dull and lifeless in the night, the windows hung open and it seemed deserted and looked as though it had been that way for years but this was the address. 

Proving that the owls reputation for wisdom was unfounded Hedwig waited ten minutes, fifteen minutes, twenty but nothing stirred, she had hoped for a mouse or a rat or even a spider but here there were none. Puzzled, Hedwig unpicked the ribbon from around her leg and nudged the letter into position in the centre of the mantelpiece. Satisfied that whoever was meant to get the note would be along for it she opened her wings and swept once more into the blustery night.

There was a rat; a cunning rat who understood the danger posed by an owl or a cat. A rat who had the self possession to stay silent when one was near. The rat crept slowly out of the shadows and sat up on its haunches, craning up to see the letter high above. 

The rat had once read a book in which a man believed that if he wrote the name of someone he hated on a piece of paper and locked it in a drawer something bad would happen to them. Back then he hadn't known quite how close to the truth such a belief could be; if one wrote the name of a person on a piece of paper and threw it into that fireplace something bad would surely to happen to them. 

The rat felt a twinge of guilt as he looked at the letter and remained for a time in the safety of shadow gazing down at his one silver claw, but that guilt would pass, it always did.

~Fin~

In **_Part Fourteen: Between the lines _**… what motivates miraculous changes of heart. The Malfoys and the Ministry in abundance, Niccolo Machiavelli would have been proud!

****

Authors Notes:

This Chapter just sort of happened. Chapter 13 should have been 'Between the lines' but I think 20,000 words is just too long for one chapter. It made more sense to add an extra and end it at a natural end point. It is still unbetaed, but today I revised and took out most of the glaring errors (30.06.02).

Commiserations to my adopted country and Happy Birthday to my sister.

For updates on this fic please join:

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	14. Between the Lines

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.

~0~

**__**

Part Fourteen: Between the lines (Part i)

__

"And then she'd say that nothing can go wrong

When you're in love what can go wrong  
And then she'd laugh the night time into the day  
Pushing her fears further along"

Supergirl. Reamonn

~0~

The Slytherin common room had a unique atmosphere of comfortable twilight, always between night and day. It was the sort of light in which great events were planned in hushed tones, the wearied faces of the conspirators made sinister by the flickering light. It suited well those who called Slytherin home.

A cat, black with four white feet patrolled the shadows and perhaps disheartened by the absence of mice she paused to peer up at the occupant of the chesterfield, flicking her tail irritably before deciding that she would grace the human with her touch; such was the way of cats.

Draco did not move as she flumped softly into his lap, he was quite used to the whims of this particular mog. She turned and lay down before watching him closely through narrowed green eyes.

"Hello," he said, gently stroking the bib of white fur beneath her chin, this cat always dressed for dinner. The thought tickled Draco. He smiled thoughtfully, "I wonder what happened to Weasley's rat…" he said to the creature, "We could have owled the tail back to him."

"Oh, you've found Tebbit," Draco followed the voice to the fireplace where Millicent leaned with one hand on the mantelpiece. Beside her stood Pansy. Millicent was what his mother would have described as a 'healthy' girl; beside _her_ Pansy looked undernourished. Draco couldn't help thinking that she looked a little queasy but then he recalled that Pansy had a strange horror of cats – an unfortunate affliction for a witch.

"We were just talking about dinner," he said, tilting back his head so that he could see them more clearly, "Why don't you both join us?"

"I need to find Vincent," said Millicent. A feint blush darkened her throat and threatened to crawl its way up her cheeks as she sucked in a breath and gravely announced, "He asked me if I would help him with his Herbology."

"Herbology, eh?" said Draco smirking behind the back of one hand, "Never a dull moment!"

"I'll stay," said Pansy flitting across the floor and perching on the couch opposite, "Later, Mill." she waved and wrinkled her nose in a most peculiar manner, it seemed to carry some unspoken message. But the girls were not the only ones to discuss secrets. Draco had a very good idea what Crabbe wanted help with and homework didn't come into it.

With uncharacteristic generosity he said, "I'll take care of Tebbit, shall I?" and when Millicent turned a questioning face back to him, he added, "We wouldn't want her disturbing you two, would we?" along with a leer that prompted her to run from the common room, presumably to douse her cheeks.

Trailing one finger through Tebbit's fur, Draco turned his attention back to Pansy. They had reached an uneasy truce some months ago finding that they simply had too much in common for their feud to last. 

"It's about time he asked her," he remarked, casually, "He was afraid she'd turn him down. He's no picture, after all and she really is something to look at." It was true, Draco thought, Millicent had a stature reminiscent of a Valkyrie and a jawline to match, not his type to be sure, but in a certain light…

"She adores him," said Pansy, shifting close enough to learn that cats can sneer, "and speaking of unconventional beauties, tell me more about 'Mione."

"Hermione, please! Whoever came up with that abbreviation should have their mouth hexed shut."

"Very protective," sighed Pansy, as Draco rolled his eyes back into his head, fearing an oozing of mush. "I think it was those Patil twins. Ask Blaise, I'm sure she knows. Anyway, we only say it to annoy Granger," she added with a shrug.

"Well, don't!" Draco snapped. He was about to say more but for once he held his tongue, he wasn't really sure what he wanted Pansy to know. "Really, those idiots should have their mouths hexed shut anyway," he grumbled trying to ignore the inquisitive glint in Pansy's eye that assured him she was not going to be dissuaded. 

Pansy tilted her head thoughtfully, regarding him through blue eyes every bit as cold as his grey ones, "What are you going to do?" 

The question puzzled Draco; he had expected something more somehow, "About Padma and Parvati?"

"Draco Malfoy, champion of Muggles. How is _that_ ever going to work?" he had to admit that she had a point, the situation was almost as tenable as Longbottom uttering an intelligent comment, "Do your family know?"

  
He considered his response. Of course Pansy was interested, everyone was interested, everyone who understood what it meant. Why not, he thought, it wasn't going to be a secret forever and the sooner Pansy understood that, the better.

"Father knows," he replied, shifting to cross his legs at the ankles. 

Tebbit stirred as Pansy closed her mouth very very slowly and leaned forward. Draco didn't like the way she scrutinised him.

"What?" he demanded sharply.

"I was looking for the burn marks." Pansy explained, as though she thought Draco might just have lost his mind, "He knows?"

Draco nodded but added nothing.

"You really love to do things the easy way, don't you?" she remarked, very matter-of –factly. "That must have been a sight to behold."

"I took her home," he said, and Pansy's jaw once again gave the impression that it was connected to her skull with elastic. "It wasn't pretty."

"Was…?" she gasped in the manner of one who has just noticed a Lethifold half way up their bed.

"Mother? No. Just him," one apoplectic parent he could manage but together, Draco suppressed a shudder. Together they were invincible, "Still, I was surprised I wasn't disinherited."

A small group of third years took seats nearby and Pansy lowered her voice, "_I_ am surprised that _Hermione_ is still alive." 

"Don't push it, Pansy," Draco warned, breaking in to a humourless chuckle, "Anyway, what's done is done."

Apparently bored, Pansy said, "Really, I never thought Granger would fall for _you_," but her strategic yawn failed to disguise the bitter edge that sharpened her tone reminding Draco that Pansy had not forgiven him any more than he had forgiven her. That was the way it was. Their way of life required the façade and they both understood the rules of the game, this time it was Pansy's turn to attack, a clumsy segue from interest to insult, "Whatever does she see in you?"

"I presume something similar to what you see my dear. My wit, my charm and my vast fortune!" it was a mean tactic but Draco wasn't in the mood for this. He knew that the Parkinson's coffers had seen fuller days and he simply couldn't resist smirking as he pictured Mrs Parkinson handing her daughter a large net and a strong box along with instructions to go out and make a good catch. But if the remark cut Pansy she did not show it.

For the second time Pansy surprised Draco, "She'll be devastated when it ends," she said, the corners of her mouth twisting like victory.

Draco placed his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Against the darkness he caught glimpses of the last few months, like reflections on a sunny day flashing brightly on a newly cleaned windowpane. Everything dulled after a while; money, Quidditch … even magic. He mulled this thought … only one thing had kept its lustre these last years, something that shimmered from out of the detritus where truly he had never expected to see gold. And perhaps the wrongness of it all just added to the allure.

"This is different, Pansy," he said eventually, dislodging Tebbit as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, "This is more than lust. This is greater than my family. She is worth even more than that. There is nothing that I would not do to keep her."

"Have you really thought about this? 'Nothing' covers a lot, especially considering the way you got together."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he hissed, Draco didn't like to be reminded of that.

"There's just so much Hermione doesn't know…"

He crossed the space between them in seconds. Pansy might be many things but stupid wasn't one of them, she knew she was waving a flag at a bull and was ready to move. Draco landed on the empty couch, which rocked backwards before landing back on it feet with a crash.

The heads of the third years snapped round as if someone had tugged on all their strings in unison. On his knees and using the back of the couch as support Draco grimaced just daring them to say something. He continued to glare until they had all found something, then he turned and transferred the glare to Pansy. She might not be stupid but she clearly wasn't too bright because she was still standing there.

"I told you what I'd do if you so much as considered mentioning that to her," he said acidly, as he clambered to his feet, "Give me one good reason not to break your neck."

"Because it's the truth," Pansy replied, coolly "and because _someone_ needs to point out to you that you've totally lost your head."

"A better reason than that!" he demanded moving a little closer, but it seemed that this time Pansy wasn't going to be intimidated.

"If your head wasn't stuck in the clouds I wouldn't need to explain," as Pansy fumed, the glow of the fire behind her caught the ends of her hair making it appear to smoulder, "Listen, Draco you know as well as I do how dangerous it is to make a declaration like that … it's the quickest way to find yourself in a corner with no way out except to take that option!"

His shoulders drooped a little, how could he be such a fool? His father would kill him if he knew he'd made such a statement. Say such a thing directly to someone who knew the correct incantation and possessed few enough scruples and you'd find yourself completely deprived of free will. That was how Garak had ended up in their service – what was the story? What was it the goblin had said to his grandfather? …_I owe your family my life_…three seconds later that was literally the case with only one way to terminate the obligation.

So he had something to thank Pansy for. He stood there mute as he searched for a hole in which to stuff his rage. He didn't flinch as Pansy reached forward and brushed a lock of his hair out of his eyes. It immediately fell back again.

But he couldn't imagine what Pansy was thinking. She knew just how it felt, how it was to feel that way about someone. She wondered sadly how it felt when that object returned those feelings.

With a grunt Draco fell back into his chair, "Fair point," he said as if she'd just remarked on the weather. It certainly wasn't an apology for losing his temper but it was all he was going to give her. He lounged, hooking one leg over the arm as if nothing had happened.

"I heard something today that will amuse you." Pansy ventured, sinking back into the couch.

"If it's the one about the Mudblood, the Squib and the Chizpurfle, I've already heard it."

"No, the Ravenclaw, the Hufflepuff and the Gryffindor."

"Go on."

~0~

Hermione almost didn't see him as she turned the corner, a small leather bound book clutched to her chest. She'd counted each step of the way as she as she hurried along torchlit hallways, rapt by the patterns cast by her swirling cloak until…

"Hey!" she exclaimed, stepping out of the way just in time to catch his sleeve as he passed, "Anyone in on planet Potter?" she asked loudly and immediately regretted it. Hermione could have kicked herself, for sounding too much like a poor impression of Draco.

But Harry didn't seem to have noticed. "Oh, Hermione. Sorry, I…" he blinked hard. It could have been the reflection of the light on his glasses but Hermione imagined that…

"Are you okay?" she asked, placing her book on the edge of a plinth, right next to the pockmarked bust of Gutrune the Graphorn Tamer.

"Yeah, never better," Harry replied, a little too quickly for Hermione to be convinced. "You on your way back to the tower?"

Hermione nodded, what else could she do?

"You're looking tired," she observed thinking it a fair comment, after all it was long after dark and he was still garbed in dusty Quidditch robes. Hermione didn't remember seeing him at dinner and though each step cost her precious seconds she still cared deeply about her friend. "You should spend less time on the pitch you know … until after the exams at least."

Then he grinned, looking a little more like the Harry Hermione remembered, open and brimming with mischief, "It's about the only time I get to relax these days," he said as the smile faded, just a little. "We really have exams?" he asked, insincere and sheepish.

"No, I made them up stupid! Which is what you're going to have to do if…" Hermione paused, not feeling quite right about lecturing him on this particular point when she considered just how distracted she'd let herself become recently.

Harry's eyes widened, "Amazing, I thought you were going to give me an earful there."

"Must be your lucky night," she chuckled, then suddenly Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and stamped her foot, "Damn! I've left my book. I'm sorry, Harry. I have to go back for it. I suppose you do know the way back to the tower by now?"

"I'll manage," he grinned, "Anyone would think you were off to meet your secret lover." Hermione smiled tightly hearing his laughter echoing as she scurried back toward the Great Hall. But she waited just round the corner and when she was sure that he had gone she doubled back, passing the spot where they had parted. 

She moved swiftly. The book would no longer be there, it was merely a signal and perhaps if Harry hadn't been so preoccupied he might have guessed just how close to the truth he was.

Moonlight rippled through the high windows of the Trophy Room picking out the hard edges of the cabinets in hues of silver and grey. Her eyes flicked into the corners, searching for something more organic … to the left. A curve, blurring the strict lines of the furniture. Hermione stepped silently toward the darkness … perhaps an arm, perhaps a shoulder … almost close enough to touch.

"You're a rotten hider," she breathed softly into his ear.

"Maybe I wanted to be found," he replied stepping in to the light, "We're running out of places to meet," he whispered, only inches away, "This castle must be full of rooms and corridors that no one has seen for centuries yet the moment we find one, Filch turns up! That reminds me, I think you ought to keep an eye on that cat of yours. I'm sure I saw him and Mrs Norris slink out from under that cabinet when I came in."

"Draco!" Hermione exclaimed, forgetting for a moment that they were not supposed to be there.

"It's probably why Filch is so frustrated at the moment. Mrs Norris found herself another lover."

"That's foul."

"Feline actually," Draco raised an eyebrow and narrowed his lips slightly, "You're late by the way."

Hermione bit her lip, every time! "If it bothers you, maybe _you_ should arrive a little later or at least greet me in a different way. Your theories on bestiality aren't exactly an incentive for a girl to arrive on time."

"Depends on the girl," he shrugged, folding his arms and peering down at her with an expression that Hermione could only describe as predatory. Draco always looked that way when he was feeling belligerent and tonight Hermione had the idea that he was itching for an argument of the sort that she could not hope to win.

"Can't you just say hello like a normal person?" she asked laying her hand gently on his arms just at the point where his sleeves fell away exposing his crossed wrists. 

"My dear, you wouldn't love me if I was normal," he sighed as if bored by the very notion and let his arms fall to his sides. Hermione kept her hand where it was against his chest now, and she felt those arms loosely circle her body, tightening slowly around her waist, "Where would the challenge be in that? 

"Have you ever met you?" Hermione slipped her hand from where it lay between them and linked her hands behind his neck. Looking up at him she wondered how she could stop him from provoking an argument. She hoped he might give her some clue but his eyes were shielded by lowered lids. The moonlight exaggerated his features, sharpening his nose and deepening the hollow of his cheeks and the creases at the corners of his eyes where the skin crinkled when he laughed. 

Suddenly Draco's eyes snapped open and for a second Hermione glimpsed something that disturbed her.

"What?" he asked, surprised.

Hermione swallowed, "Nothing," she gulped, shocked by the nasty twist of her imagination.

"Nothing?" Draco sounded sceptical.

"I thought I heard something," Hermione lied. Noise! It was a safe bet because in her experience the castle liked to amuse itself by making life as interesting and challenging as possible for the students by changing, or creaking or crumbling at the most inopportune moments. This was as likely a time as any.

"Then lets not stay here." 

"There _is_ nowhere else," she leaned against him not relishing the thought of another chase when for once there was actually nothing to run from, "We've tried everywhere and there's always something … ghosts, or caretakers or teachers, or students who should be in bed."

"Ah, but your prefect on patrol act was perfect and as I keep telling you, you are a superb hypocrite."

"Am I supposed to be proud of that?" it was just too hard not to react when he was being like this.

"Would I ever try to tell you what to do?"

"Hermione ignored that question. "I thought you had an idea, unless you plan to follow Crookshanks and Mrs Norris through the cobwebs would you mind sharing it?"

"Now who's being dirty?" he quipped, "but no, that isn't what I had in mind."

"Give me a moment while I bait my breath."

"Hermione, sarcasm really is unattractive."

She scowled, "Look, Draco. I don't have time for this," she pushed against his arms which he firmly refused to move, "If you must behave like a prat could we schedule time in daylight?"

"Stop trying to get away. I know the perfect place."

"Where?"

"My world," Draco released her from his embrace.

"I don't understand."

"Put on my robe and follow me," he commanded, striding across to the door as he shrugged off his robe. Aware that she wasn't going to receive any further information Hermione followed him as far as the door where he held out his robe to her with one hand. She took it, pulling it over her own as they walked. It was too long for her and trailed along the floor until she gathered it off the ground to stop herself from tripping.

"What is the…"

"Shush now."

"Why do…"

"Shhhh!" 

"Draco," she hissed, "Where are…"

"Don't ask questions," he said irritably from a few paces ahead. They were in the dungeons now, not far from the potions classroom but they took a sharp left, another, a right, turn after turn until Hermione thought they could well be under another castle. 

"Here," he said, stopping so suddenly that Hermione nearly collided with him. All she could see was an expanse of particularly damp and unimpressive grey wall. 

"Hmm," Hermione sucked on her bottom lip turning slowly for effect, "I can see why you thought we wouldn't be disturbed here. No one in their right mind would…"

Draco was standing in a rectangular doorway that hadn't been there before. "If we see anyone don't say a word."

So that was his plan, "This is crazy, Draco," she protested.

"Why? You're wearing the robe, the lighting's not exactly bright. Come on!" Draco seized Hermione's wrist and pulled her through the wall which ground closed behind her. The room which they entered was long and low and empty of life apart from a single figure in an armchair by the fire who was occupied at the moment with the task of filling the room with loud regular snores.

"You can look later," said Draco half dragging her to the furthest corner of the vast room. He didn't let go until he'd made her sit. Hermione rubbed her wrist and stared at him as he sat beside her.

"You must be the only Gryffindor to ever set foot in here," he whispered as he pulled her toward him. Hermione turned her face in toward his chest, just in case someone came by. She could only see him with one eye but she thought he looked very pleased at having broken Hogwarts unwritten rule. It just wasn't done to bring outsiders into your common room; of course she didn't think he'd be quite so thrilled if he knew that she defiantly wasn't the first. 

Hermione could feel Draco's breath warm in her hair as he whispered, "In about ten minutes, he will shout _'hell's teeth!'_ then wake up and go to bed. He's done it every night for the last six years that I've seen. Then we'll be alone."

~0~

There was no time for breakfast the next morning. As Hermione was about to leave her dormitory she noticed a letter on her bedside table propped up against the water jug. She was sure it had not been there when she awoke or even when she dressed. Curious she picked open the envelope and slid out a stiff yellow card stamped with the Hogwarts crest. The message, written in a steady neat hand said simply:

__

Miss Granger,

Please come at once to my office. 

Professor McGonagall

Hermione was alarmed at the summons. She snatched her bag from the corner of her dressing table and hurried through the common room wondering what the problem could be.

Anxious, Hermione glanced down at the card which she still held in her hand then she rapped twice on the door of McGonagall's office and hearing, "_Come in_," lilt through the closed door, she grasped the handle and entered. 

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" half question, half statement. McGonagall was already on her feet coming toward Hermione who was surprised to see Professor Dumbledore standing by McGonagall's desk peering down his crooked nose at something that lay on the blotter.

"Sit down," McGonagall said, ushering Hermione into a solid chair, sensibly upholstered in crimson felt; beside it was a small folding table on which stood a tray laid for tea. A tendril of steam twisted from the spout of the silver pot.

"Something very serious has happened" began McGonagall bringing forward the loosely rolled newspaper she held in one hand.

Oh Merlin, Hermione felt the knot of her tie tighten around her throat, My parents.

"Please, read this." McGonagall unrolled the paper and placed it in Hermione's waiting hands. A copy of the Daily Prophet. Hermione read the headline. 

****

Quidditch Star's ex in AK Alarm

She skimmed through the article as McGonagall busied herself pouring tea. Hermione thought that she detected Skeeters claws embedded deep within the text but it wasn't until she reached the third paragraph, the one that held the _least_ sensational part of the story that she understood why she was here.

****

"The attack has drawn particular attention because it occurred close to the Muggle home of Hermione Granger, top Hogwarts student and close friend of the legendary Harry Potter. Fears are growing that Miss Granger may have been the intended target. Miss Granger earned a degree of notoriety two years ago during her whirlwind romance with Quidditch star Viktor Krum. 

When asked to comment on the suggested cause of death Ministry Officials were tight-lipped but an Auror at the scene snorted, "Lightning? Not bloody likely," before shoving our photographer into a pool of mud."

Miss Granger, believed to be safely within the walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was unavailable for comment last night."

Her eyes slid down to the picture beside the words, a Muggle photograph; blurry and still.

__

Hermione blinked.

"I also think you should read this, Miss Granger," Hermione had forgotten that Dumbledore was there but here he was beside McGonagall holding out another paper. The Recorder, a weekly local rag … hadn't he once told Harry that he read the Muggle press? Hermione seemed to recall him mentioning it once, but a local paper? Dated Monday, there was the same photograph, the boy wearing a striped top and a slightly surprised look frozen on his face.

She reached out and picked it up feeling cold creep over her.

****

Saturday Sports Tragedy

****

'Freak weather conditions have been blamed for the tragic death of Paul Beynon Captain of Baden Priory first fifteen. "It was a normal day," says Conor McCarthy, close friend and team-mate of the victim, "He was going for the try, he was clear and then from nowhere and as I passed the ball it struck, a dazzling green flash, I fell and when I got up Paul was still."

Foul play has been ruled out such conditions whilst rare are not unheard of, lightning…'

"We grew up together. I saw him just last week."

"I don't need to tell you how serious this is, Miss Granger. I'm sorry to have to ask you this now, before you have had a chance to digest this properly but I must. This Easter did you see anything or anyone unusual, anything unexpected, no matter how insignificant you think it was."

"No," replied Hermione, not quite truthfully. Seeing Draco was unusual, but she didn't want to explain that right now; she didn't really think it was any of their business. "Paul … we were friends for years. Why him? Why Paul? He's just a Muggle."

"That doesn't matter to Voldemort's followers, they are growing stronger and more willing to take risks," Dumbledore paused and if Hermione hadn't known better she might have thought it was for dramatic effect. He coughed lightly before continuing, just to be sure he had her attention, "We don't even know that he was their intended victim."

"What do you…" but the pity that lay behind Dumbledore's kindly expression told her everything she needed to know. "You agree with the Prophet, you think I was the intended victim," she said.

Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"I _was_ meant to be there but I changed my mind at the last minute," Hermione rested her saucer in her lap and took a sip from her cup, the liquid was hot and sweet and burned her lips. Her eyes caught the swinging pendulum of a cased clock on the mantelpiece, glinting in time with each tock that echoed in her skull, as loud as a drum on a battlefield, "I don't see how anyone could have known." she lowered the cup until she heard the porcelain click.

Here at Hogwarts and back in her Muggle life it was easy to forget that there was a war going on. A war against an enemy not even acknowledged by the Ministry as a problem. Hermione could even forget that she had a foot in both cauldrons and that one of her greatest friends was at the centre of that conflict.

"I have spoken to you parents on the Floo," said McGonagall softly, but somehow loud enough to be heard above that clock; or perhaps that was just the throb of Hermione's own blood. "They are satisfied that you are in no danger here but as I'm sure you can understand they were very worried after reading the Daily Prophet this morning."

Hermione nodded, "I'll write to them."

"You may use my fireplace if you wish to talk to them sooner. Meanwhile I suggest you take the day off lessons, I have already asked your teachers to excuse you. Spend a little time with your friends. Harry and Ron will be pleased to give you their support and I have asked Dennis to help."

"Dennis?" Hermione looked up, fast learning why the adage about liars and their memories had become such a cliché.

"Your mother told me that Dennis Creevey visited you this Easter," McGonagall smiled warmly, "I know how important it is to have a shoulder to cry on at times like this."

"Yes, of course, though I'd rather work," Hermione said, laying her saucer on the table, Dennis was going to be very confused, "it will take my mind off things."

"Not today! Hard work, is a good cure all, but not until you have had a chance to reflect. Now come with me and we'll go back to the tower."

Professor McGonagall escorted Hermione all the way into the common room and sat her down by the fire before leaving her alone…to reflect. The phrase bothered Hermione. It implied that McGonagall thought that she was hiding something.

The morning had left a very sour taste in Hermione's mouth, she hurriedly cleaned her teeth but it just wouldn't go away and the longer she thought about it the sicker it made her feel. She paced around the empty dormitory trying to make sense of things.

What was the connection? If it should have been her and not Paul, could it be coincidence that the one person she knew on the team was killed? If it wasn't coincidence, how did they know that she knew Paul? What did they hope to achieve anyway? He was a friend but they lived in different worlds; surely if someone wanted to hurt her they would have chosen a more obvious target like her parents. This brought Hermione back round to coincidence and if that was the case she had to conclude that she was the intended victim and that the next time she ventured out of Hogwarts she was as good as dead. Needless to say this conclusion did not comfort Hermione.

When she returned to the common room she found Dennis Creevey standing awkwardly by the door.

"Hermione," he said, "Professor McGonagall said I should come and see you. I really don't know why."

"She meant well, I think," Hermione said, offering no explanation as to how the confusion might have arisen, "I'm really sorry about it."

"It's okay. I mean, if you want to talk…?"

"I'd rather be alone if you don't mind," she said, seeing Dennis release a relieved breath, "Thanks for the offer." 

Dennis seemed happy to be part of a misunderstanding that unexpectedly gave him the morning off lessons. After a few minutes of forced conversation he headed straight for the boys dormitories leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts.

There was something missing from her logic and her mind was filling the hole by subscribing to the theory of the moment … that she was the target of Death Eaters and thus almost certainly doomed. When a group of fanatics led by a psychopath decides you are top of the list there's not really much to be done except wait.

Or go on as usual – her conscience reminded her – self pity is not an option!

But shouldn't she feel something? Somehow she couldn't feel guilty about Paul; it really wasn't her fault. But where was the anger, the fear, the grief? 

By midday Hermione had slipped into an uneasy doze she was troubled by a pale, indistinct figure that skulked on the periphery of her conscious mind. If she could catch _him_ she would have the answers. She knew it was a him, somehow. But each time she tried to focus he moved a little further away…

"Galrhhgh!" Hermione started awake, grasping the arm of the chair as she turned to face the source of the noise. It was only Ron carrying a bowl of soup. She tried to ignore the way her heart pounded when she heard his step.

"I'm not an invalid, Ron," she snapped frustrated at her own fear Jumping at loud noises! Next she'd be running from shadows. Pull yourself together she told herself.

"McGonagall's orders," he replied, "you're lucky, y'know. They could have stuck you in the infirmary. But at least we worked out why you've been so strange recently. I'm not surprised you kept Dennis a secret."

"I'm not seeing Dennis," stated Hermione groaning inwardly. The Hogwarts gossip network was obviously still as strong as ever and in a few hours everyone would be here offering their sympathy, or perhaps they would completely avoid her in case being with her singled them out as the next victim. Nothing would surprise Hermione today. As her mind drifted she imagined a question on the forthcoming exams…_ The only thing faster than light and more powerful than magic is rumour: Discuss_.

Ron continued to talk but Hermione was only dimly aware of what he was saying, when she reviewed the conversation later she would realise just how much things had changed between them; in this room she was simply a victim. Once upon a time she, Ron and Harry had been a team, all part of the same fight but now for the first time Hermione realised that she was no longer part of the solution.

~0~

Just before the end of lessons Hermione left the common room. She felt drained and though she'd spent most of the day in her own company staring at the ashes which lined an empty grate, she didn't much feel like talking with her housemates. 

She walked in the grounds, hoping that the warmth of the sunlight would cheer her up but it couldn't penetrate the cold that was growing within her. If she was their target then she was going to die, they always got their targets, no matter how well protected. They were tenacious, they were dangerous and they knew that she could not stay within Hogwarts forever. Hermione felt herself a danger to her friends and her family and to herself. She would never know when, never know who, one eye always on the door, never able to rest until they came… "_Constant vigilan_ce!" she recalled the mantra. Soon _she_ would be as paranoid as Mad Eye Moody.

The lake was calm, mottled blue and grey like the sky above until Hermione kicked a pebble which broke the surface, sending rings of ripples flowing far beyond where she could see. It didn't hold her attention for long, nothing could, the water was still lapping at the shore when she shuffled away. Eventually she sat with her back against a fallen log and her knees pulled up under her chin. 

The sun began to melt into the horizon. 

Hermione knew that she'd missed dinner and soon it would soon be dark but she wasn't hungry and the night would be warm enough for her to stay here another hour. Here she was safe, here at Hogwarts.

SNAP!

A dry twig breaking on the path. Hermione scrambled to her feet, her hands fumbling for her wand but somehow her they seemed to tangle in her robes. Was it footsteps or just the pounding of the blood in her ears? They were coming, and she was alone and she had nowhere to run. Somehow she steadied her hands ready to face whatever was coming.

  
"Who were you expecting, Hermione?" Draco enquired, evidently amused by her defensive stance. "I thought we established that I'm _not_ a Death Eater."

"That's not funny," she replied stiffly, "How did you find me?"

"You can find anyone if you look hard enough." Hermione did not find that thought comforting, "You look frightful and really, I'm not going to attack you so you might want to put that wand down." 

Hermione did as suggested but at this moment the last thing she needed was Draco being Malfoyish. That attitude he adopted when surrounded by his Slytherin cohorts never failed to annoy her and something must have shown in her expression because he became immediately serious. Draco stepped toward her and without a word guided her over to the gnarled mossy roots of a tree.

"Would you like to talk about it?" he asked sitting down beside her, twisting so that he could see her fully. 

"It's Paul," she said, focussing through the branches on the last traces of scarlet and gold that were fast disappearing behind the hills.

"Who's Paul?" Draco probed, drawing Hermione close against his body, so close that she could feel his shirt crisp against her cheek, fresh, like a newly turned bed. Hermione lifted her chin so that she might see his face as they spoke. 

"My friend Paul, he's dead," her voice wavered and she was unsure if she could trust herself to finish, "He was attacked on Saturday and I should have been there. It should have been me. They wanted to get me!"

"I saw the Prophet, and I'm sorry," Draco's brow creased, "But I think you're wrong."

"About what?"

"Nobody wants to harm you."

"Are you seriously telling me you believe that?" Hermione twisted on to her knees and glared directly at Draco, "There are too many people around who want to harm Muggle-borns."

Hermione knew that he could not deny it, he seemed to be having trouble meeting her eyes. She also knew that he considered her to be an exception and she always struggled to forget that he was as hostile as ever to the others. 

"Trust me, this was a coincidence," he said firmly.

"Absolute rot! I should have been there then Paul would be alive."

"And you?" he held her shoulders, matching her outburst with a note, not of anger but of something Hermione found indecipherable. She wasn't sure what she had expected from Draco, not pity, not sympathy but not such a bland acceptance of the situation. How could he be so certain that she was safe?

"Nothing will happen to you, Hermione," he said cupping her face between his hands and as she slipped into them she wondered just what was going on behind those eyes; the only thing that ever changed them was passion and anger, everything else swirled far beneath the surface, unseen. As their lips parted Draco lay back against the roots taking Hermione with him, holding her close, so very close. 

"I won't allow anything to happen to you," he whispered, smoothing her hair with his hand as he smoothed her fear with his voice, "Just trust me, it will all be okay. I can protect you from anything…"

And at that moment Hermione believed it was true. She sobbed, big choking sobs and all the while he muttered to her, comforted her, supported her as the flood of fear and anger and hopelessness that had gathered during the day released and washed over them. 

"I'm not going to let them intimidate me," she said eventually. If only everyone could know. Perhaps they could, when the exams were over, when the Quidditch season was over, when the war was over.

~0~

In **_Part Fourteen: Between the Lines (Part ii)_**… what motivates miraculous changes of heart. The Malfoys and the Ministry in abundance, Niccolo Machiavelli would have been proud!

****

Authors Notes:

In writing this chapter I realised that what I intended to have as Part Fourteen is enough to fill three chapters so rather than confuse you all with a change of title I have split Part Fourteen into two parts.

I'm sorry if Part Thirteen was depressing, it was a little reflective of my own mood whilst writing and of my anti-mush romance crusade.

The Trophy Room scene is dedicated to the 'Tale of Two Kitties' thread over at FAP, which is just the cutest ship ever;)

Once again I find myself without a beta so please forgive me any small mistakes (It's probably my own fault for having a four-month case of writers block) and somehow I just cannot find a replacement. Until I do, the long suffering other half is helping me out. Thanks M.

Enough waffle. Expect Part 14 part ii within the next four weeks!

For updates on this fic please join:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Transi_de_Froid/


	15. On Cause and Consequence

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.

~0~

****

Part fifteen: Of Cause and Consequence

[Also known as Part Fourteen: Between the lines (Part ii)]

"I know nothing stays the same

But if you're willing to play the game

It will be coming around again"

__

Coming Around Again, Carly Simon

~0~

For the first time in six years, Hermione understood how everyone else in Hogwarts felt as the exams approached. The sun outside became a torment and each new day only brought the inevitable closer. She was worried and not just the worry felt by the ambitious. This was a real concern that she had not done enough. It wasn't that she had neglected her studies, but no sooner had Hermione settled down in the library, opened her books, smoothed her parchment and taken up her quill than Draco's nose appeared round the corner followed swiftly by the promise of a more attractive alternative. 

It was a mystery to her how _he_ ever found the time to study. 

Harry and Ron appeared to be working in shifts, sharing the responsibility of persuading Hermione to take time off to come to meals; they seemed to be attributing her reluctance to leave the tower as a symptom of the threat hanging over her head. It was more simple than that. Exhausted after weeks of trying to cram late at night in a busy common room, Hermione took drastic measures and decided not to step foot outside the Gryffindor tower until she was satisfied that she had done enough work. It just happened that the best time to do this was during dinner. It left her enough time to sprint to the Great Hall at the last minute, grab a quick bite and install herself in the library. That way, when Draco pestered her, she was in the perfect position to let him think that he'd got his way.

Pausing to dip her quill in the inkpot she wondered what would happen when these exams were over. How would Draco cope? Badly, she reasoned and his competitive nature was sure to be at an extreme. Anyone else wouldn't be a problem, but for Draco, winning was often the most important thing. Even in their relationship there was a power game underway and whilst she wasn't keeping score, Hermione as certain that he was. She anticipated some awkward days while he came to terms with it. 

The last real time they'd spent together was out by the lake when Hermione felt more desolate than she'd ever felt in her life. They had talked long into the night as the moon rose over the water replacing the scarlet streaked clouds with silver. He'd brought her back from some cold place, taken her away from a darkness that even now she could not quite describe; to even try to find it invited back emptiness. Somehow she knew that if he hadn't come then she would be there now, alone and ten times more difficult to retrieve. But he had come. 

He had rescued her. 

Her knight. 

Draco had been in that place too, such cold, creeping fingers of despair sinking far into his soul. He had told her, though not in so many words the night he had taken her to the cavern on the cliff and perhaps for him it was she who kept the blackness at bay. 

Reflexively, Hermione rubbed the nose of the little snake that coiled around her wrist. She had worn it ever since that night, since the first time love was mentioned. It was a marvellous design, the craftsman who had charmed it a true master of his art. Its peculiarity was to slink away up her arm whenever it thought it should not be seen. An early warning. She ruminated on this thought, as the nose disappeared from beneath her thumb.

"Hello, Ginny," she said without raising her head. The snake settled just above her elbow, like a sentient slave bangle.

"What ever is this story about Dennis?" Ginny asked, dragging a stool round to Hermione's side of the table. 

__

What a very welcome distraction, thought Hermione, angling her head in the barest acknowledgement of the other girls' presence. _Ginny Weasley, Super Sleuth on the case! _Ron's sister still distrusted her though she was careful not to give that impression when her brother was around. It was a special distrust that Ginny reserved for Hermione alone.

"Just silly gossip," said Hermione dismissively, running her thumb down the edge of parchment.

Ginny picked up a quill and smoothed the feather tip between her fingers. Draco's quill, "Just I heard that he visited you…"

"Not likely," Hermione laughed uncomfortably, "Was there any reason you wanted to know?"

"Just interested," Ginny replied smiling thinly and without warmth, "I should let you get on. Oh!" she leaned forward and peered at the parchment then with exaggerated interest asked, "Is that Defence Against the Dark Arts? Glamours? Isn't that the art of appearing to be something you're not?"

Hermione's lips narrowed, Ginny Weasley was flying just a little too close to the Bludger in her opinion, "Actually," she said tersely, "There are many different types. The most complex, if used correctly can dupe a persons mind so that the caster is entirely disguised. The more simple type may just allow the caster to give off an exaggerated aura of attractiveness or trust or some such trait."

"So you'd know if someone was casting a glamour?"

"That _is_ the point of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Ginny!"

"_I_ know that," Ginny smiled again and tripped away, "Oh, your quill." Hermione snatched it from her in the most ungracious manner and slammed it down on the table.

"You're welcome," said Ginny.

Hermione wished, not for the first time that Ron's little sister would go and swim with the giant squid.

~0~

Nobody had much of an appetite on the evening of the exams. Whole platters of glazed ham and mashed potato lay untouched; of course that could have also been an effect of recent developments in the kitchens. The house elves cooking skills seemed to decrease in direct proportion to their increased militance. As Hermione laid her fork on the side of her plate and pushed her half eaten meal away, the distinct; _ting, ting, ting_ of metal striking glass rang through the hall followed by the gravelly cough of an old, old man and the sound of a heavy chair being scraped back.

"What's Dumbledore up to?" whispered Dean.

"I dunno," muttered Ron with a shrug.

"If you both shut up we might find out!" Hermione jabbed Ron sharply in the ribs, at least if the food wasn't worth turning up for, this might be.

"Thank you all for sparing a few minutes for an old man," the Headmaster scanned he hall, his eyes lingering on the noisier elements of the assembly. As he peered in the direction of the Gryffindor table Ron sank back in his chair turning a slightly darker shade of red than usual. "I received an Owl this morning from none other than the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge concerning the students of this very school…"

A murmur crept round the hall as the students immediately began discussing the possibilities. 

__

Perhaps he thinks we might do a better job, Hermione thought wryly. But it was a thought she kept to herself. 

Dumbledore coughed once again. 

"…Mr Fudge wishes to honour achievement among the youth of the magical community. To represent our school he would like to invite from our seventh year the Head Boy and Girl and from our sixth year those students who achieve the most outstanding results this year to a special award ceremony at the Ministry. As I'm sure you'll appreciate this is a great honour and…"

"That's you that is!" said Harry in a low voice, his spectacles glinting wickedly as he caught her eye. Hermione tried not to look smug. How could it be anyone else?

"Watch it Hermione," warned Ron, "you might not get through the door."

"We don't know yet," she snapped, certain that it would be her.

"…let's hope that this is the motivation some of you need to pull your socks up! A round of applause to Brian Poulson and Sarah Briggs our Head Boy and Girl and to the sixth years who will accompany them and Professor Grubbly Plank to the reception at the Ministry," he beamed across the hall, "I know you'll be a credit to the school." 

As the Headmaster resumed his seat the hall was filled to the rafters with voices. There were rumours about the strained relationship between the Hogwarts faculty and the Ministry but certain people knew the true extent of the rift between the Minister and Dumbledore. Three of them were sitting at the Gryffindor table and though none of them said anything directly they could all guess what the others were thinking.

"Bet Percy wishes there was something like this when he was Head Boy," said Ron, the first to locate a neutral subject, "Can you imagine his face? What a chance to suck up," he followed this observation with a sound reminiscent of the last bath-water disappearing down the plughole.

"I'm sure it's not like that Ron. I bet it will be very boring, full of stuffy old ministry people."

"Well at least you'll get to see won't you, Hermione"

"We don't know that!"

"We do!" grinned both Ron and Harry, and though she wasn't about to admit it, Hermione knew it too.

~0~

"It's always something," complained Draco steadying his chair on two legs by grasping the end of the Slytherin table, "Why not just pick names out of a _bloody_ hat instead of making a competition of it?" 

"Last time anyone picked names out of something round here, Potters sprang out," Blaise observed, punctuating her sentence with the piece of chicken on the end of her fork before sucking in her cheeks and proceeding in an squeaky Scots accent. "This way the good old fashioned values of _hard work and sheer dumb luck_ play a part."

"Scary, Blaise, very scary," Pansy snorted, "Dare you to try it in front of McGonagall."

"End of next year!" she replied, gamely accepting the challenge, "But knowing this place it'll be rigged anyway."

"Wherever did you learn to be so cynical?" asked Draco not so keen on the idea of a raffle now that he's been reminded of the 'Potter Principle'.

"A few years at Hogwarts sitting where we are is enough to introduce a hearty scepticism into the most optimistic mind. Someone should explain to these people the concept of the self fulfilling prophesy."

"Or, in English," Pansy translated with a chuckle, "Most of the staff treat us as though we have two heads and they wonder why we have issues."

"Spare me the philosophy," Draco groaned, "The point is, if it's a competition then I must win it."

"Why exactly?" asked Crabbe scattering large, damp crumbs of pudding across the table, "Do you really want to spend an evening with the Ministry?"

"That's not the point, is it? You surpassed the height of your parent's ambition when you stood upright. I can just imagine what they'd do if you stopped dragging your knuckles on the ground," Draco sniggered receiving the adulation he expected, but though Crabbe might be a little slow, Millicent wasn't.

"Draco," she said sharply, "I sometimes wonder how you have any friends at all."

"Sorry, Crabbe," he smirked and unable to resist the temptation, added, "Forgot you had your bodyguard with you. All I'm saying is that its what my damned family will expect me to do and anyway if it gives me the chance to prevent Pothead from going then it's worth a very dull evening indeed." 

~0~

They gathered in the corridor outside the locked Arithmancy classroom. Normally they would wait inside for Professor Vector but today the exam papers were inside. Draco leaned against the doorframe, watching Hermione check her bag for the fourth time. He debated speaking to her but she was one of those who preferred to be alone and fretful before exams and who had a tendency to come out of them crowing about how well it had all gone. 

Professor Vector sailed along the corridor, parting the waiting students neatly down the middle. She unlocked the door and they began to file in. Draco lingered, deciding only at the last minute to say nothing to her. Anything he could say would not sound sincere and as it was not possible to wish someone "moderate luck" he thought it better to keep his mouth shut. Then as he peeled himself away from the masonry, Hermione passed him. She squeezed his hand, and whispered "Good luck."

He glanced down at her as he passed her desk; he was one place behind her. Perhaps that was Vectors idea of humour. As he waited for quills to be distributed, Draco's eyes wandered over Hermione's back, up the folds of her robe, the curve of her shoulder. They settled at the nape of her neck, exposed where her hair fell forward over her shoulders. 

Why was it that she always managed to move his mind off whatever it was he should be doing? All he could think about was that little patch of skin, its taste, how she would squirm if he reached out and…

"Mr Malfoy?" Vectors voice sliced through Draco's vision, "You may start!"

Draco looked around slightly stupidly; everyone else was halfway down their first scroll.

"Bugger!" he swore loudly and as the muffled sniggers of his classmates faded, he seized his quill and began to make up for lost time.

How was she still writing, oblivious to all but the sound of her quill scraping over rough parchment? He marvelled at her ability to keep this up; after almost three hours, he was ready to go and had been for some time. What the hell was transubstantiation anyway?

Vector seemed to be taking her time collecting the piles of scrolls from the desks but eventually she finished. Hermione twisted round, her eyes glistening with the sheen of success. Draco couldn't find one grain of doubt on which he could focus. Too many hours in the dry air had parched his through and… 

"Not now," he croaked scraping back his chair and pushing though the exiting students. He caught a glimpse of Hermione still at her desk looking hurt. Now there was doubt. Bluntness sometimes had that effect but he knew she'd feel a lot worse if he had shared what he was thinking with her.

~0~

The morning of the results there were more students taking an early breakfast than usual; the only ones who had slept late were those who didn't care or who wanted to appear not to care. 

Sitting alone, Draco pushed a half cooked sausage around his plate with his fork and wondered if the food was as bad on the other house tables or if the house elves made a special effort for the Slytherins. 

Could this be his year?

For the first time he'd done more than simply skim a textbook the night before each exam, he'd even made a half hearted effort to put her off studying but she'd found a way round that as he knew she would. Draco gnawed the knuckle of his thumb before stretching his neck round to see across to the Gryffindor table. There she was, anxious, propped between Scarface and Weasley. 

Maybe this year…?

Between drumming his fingers on the table and tapping his foot impatiently, Draco passed the time by glancing at the door every time it swung open, only to return to his solitude as each additional student swelled the ranks of the concerned. 

Soon the door would open and someone would announce the news. 

Soon. 

And then it came.

Neville Longbottom whooped, "I passed!" and a hundred heads snapped round. 

Draco was on his feet immediately, far ahead of the tide that left flotsam of half eaten breakfasts congealing and forgotten in the hall. He stood before the baize covered noticeboards in the shadow of the hourglasses. He stared as behind him friends exchanged congratulations and commiserations.

He stared.

Every word Draco had ever known had fallen out of his head. 

Turning away he elbowed a path through the flow, managing to squeeze back into the hall. He sat down heavily, the smell of grease making him queasy. Part of him wanted to feel happy for her but it was a very small part and it quickly lost the argument to the part that right now would happily push Hermione Granger in the lake. 

Leaning on his elbows he cradled his head in his hands, fingers lost in his hair. The smallest of margins, not wider than the grain on the table at which he stared but it could be as wide as the distance between their tables and still the result was the same. 

His eyes narrowed as he heard them loudly congratulating her as they passed the end of his table. The Weasel clapped her on the back and he could have sworn that Potter sneered at him. 

If only once he could beat her.

~0~

It was clear now who was going to the Ministry, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger would make up the remainder of that party; a result made official by Professor McGonagall at dinner that evening. 

There was only one question occupying the Gryffindor collective consciousness. Would Hermione go? It was no secret that Death Eaters had made an attempt on her life and they didn't imagine for one minute that Dumbledore would allow her to risk her life. 

A note arrived with pudding delivered by a lone owl. Hermione thought it looked a bit disgruntled about having been roused from its perch so early in the evening. It didn't take a genius to work out what was within the envelope. She read the note quickly and with a scrunch of her face made her excuses to Harry before making the short trudge to McGonagalls office, not sure that her stomach could cope with another helping of sweet tea and sympathy. 

Hermione stepped into the common room greeted by the familiar crackle of the wireless from the corner. As she knelt down on the rug by the heatless blaze that someone had conjured up to bring life to the hearth for summer, Ron asked. "What happened?" 

"I spoke with Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall," she told him, pausing to straighten her badge. "They didn't want me to go to the Ministry but I said that I will. I'll not be intimidated! I can't spend all my life behind these walls."

"That's the spirit," said Harry who lay on his back trying to form words with the string of bubbles that emerged from the tip of his wand, "but are you sure you'll be safe?"

"I don't think they'd risk anything there, too obvious and too public and Professor Grubbly Plank will be with us. I'll be okay," she said in breathless reassurance, "Anyway, I'll have to deal with it at some point."

"What if they did mean to get your friend?" Harry asked suddenly laying his wand on the hearth with a click, "What if _nobody_ is after you?"

"I thought about that," Hermione said as the last bubble disappeared with a wet and distinctly audible 'pop', "But it doesn't make sense. Paul was a Muggle."

"I don't think it matters to them," said Ron, "You-Know-Who's followers are more than a little crazy, as you weren't there, they just picked a random target. Ask Malfoy, I bet he knows," Ron added, darkly.

But that was the one thing Hermione was certain of, Malfoy had nothing to do with this. She was even beginning to wonder if Harry had been mistaken about the presence of Draco's father during the events after the tri-wizard tournament. Harry _was_ under a lot of stress and if the man really was a supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named then how could he be so accepting of she and Draco? 

"I think Ron's right," she said, "It's one of those rare coincidences and we're not dealing with sane people here. There are steps I can take to protect myself. As long as I'm cautious there's no more danger than normal."

"I hope so," said Harry pulling a face, "Oh," he added unenthusiastically, "Look at the time, I have to go. I'll catch you later."

"What's up with him?" asked Hermione after he had tucked his wand in his belt and practically stamped to the picture hole.

"You haven't heard?" Ron seemed amazed. "You remember Justin Finch Fletchley…"

~0~

She didn't even notice him pass by. 

They were sitting on the low wall at the edge of the courtyard. She had his arm around _him_.

Draco couldn't take pleasure in seeing his enemy's obvious distress, not when she was there with him like that. He moved nearer, making the change of direction seem as natural as he could. If Gregory had noticed that it was odd, he didn't say so. 

He came so close that he could have reached out and brushed her hair with his finger and still she hadn't even looked up. Draco shrugged someone's restraining hand aside and twisted his foot in the gravel. The noise was loud and raw like a snarl. Potter looked up.

"What's up, Potter? Dark Lord been troubling you?" he asked, already quite aware of why the enemy's eyes were red rimmed behind his thick lenses.

"Draco!" scolded Hermione, "Go away!"

"I can walk wheresoever I like, Miss Granger," he replied, deliberately stiff and formal. If she thought she could speak to him like _that_ after so blatantly ignoring him then she was sadly mistaken.

"Please get lost. Harry had bad news."

"Good grief!" he exclaimed, "you mean his parents are alive?" Draco suddenly found himself nose to nose with Hermione who was fixing him with a stare that would have made a basilisk think twice about its next move.

"Stop being such a bastard and go!" she said then lowering her voice, presumably so that Potter wouldn't hear, "His girlfriend just left him."

"Leaves the way open for you, doesn't it?" Draco replied nastily. They hadn't spoken for days but only because he, Draco hadn't trusted himself to be alone with her fearing that he might say or do something that she could not forgive. But he was horrified to see her here, all over Potter for the entire school to see when she wouldn't even acknowledge that _they_ might be a little more than enemies. It made him wonder why he was wasting his time trying to spare her feelings when she obviously didn't give a damn about his. 

Draco thought he'd like to make her pay for that. "Who'd she drop you for Potter?" he asked loudly, already performing for the burgeoning crowd, "Longbottom?"

Hermione answered for him, "Justin if you must know." 

Draco's grin broadened. It couldn't be more perfect. 

From the corner of his eye he could see Potters fists clenching tighter and tighter. He knew very well that Hermione was one of those people who could be indirectly tormented by an attack on her friends and she had just presented him with a perfect opportunity.

"That girl really does have a taste for fat Hufflepuffs … I say, maybe this one will do us a favour and get himself killed too." 

Harry pushed past Hermione, shoving Draco back into the wall of onlookers, which had positioned itself, just close enough to "overhear" every word. 

"Harreee," squealed Hermione, grabbing his sleeve to stop him going for Draco. Though right now she felt Malfoy would benefit from a good kicking she didn't want either of them to get into trouble. She put herself right in between them trusting that Draco wouldn't take a swing at her to get to Harry. 

For one unnaturally long moment Hermione thought that she was wrong. Then Draco squared his shoulders and stared levelly at her. 

"I wish you'd said _my_ name," he mouthed before shoving his way through the remaining watchers. Hermione stared after him; she wanted to follow him, to explain. But that would only make things worse. 

As his back disappeared through the archway, Hermione turned back to Harry.

"What a pity he's single," he spat, "Imagine having to put up with that."

"Harry?" she'd rarely seen him so angry.

"It's all of this, Voldemort, my parents, the Malfoys, Cho, Cedric, everything, it's all linked together … somehow." he shook his head but no answers fell out, "I wish he wasn't going to London with you, Hermione. I don't trust him."

"Don't worry about Malfoy," she said, "I can take care of a dozen Malfoys if I have to." 

But news travelled fast through the schoolyard and there seemed to be an unusually large number of students ambling through the courtyard, eyes cast in their direction "Let's go back to the common room." Hermione suggested, heartily sick of entertaining for the day.

How could she not have known sooner? Until Ron told her the previous night she had no idea that Justin and Cho were about to become an item. Draco knew, that much was apparent but he never discussed Harry with her. 

Would Harry be willing to sit with her and pour out his heart if he knew about Draco? Hermione doubted that very much. Some things were unforgivable and being involved with Malfoy was one of them.

They linked arms as they walked back, trading mutual support, "Sometimes I could kill him," said Harry still brooding, "The things he says. He doesn't care and that's almost worse than deliberate malice. I know I've never said this to you, but before Christmas when he played that prank on you, I could have killed him. I just knew that you couldn't do a thing like that willingly. Deep down Ron knows it too, though he's too stubborn to say so. Seriously, I don't know what I'd do without you right now, both you and Ron. As long as we're together I know we will win."

Hermione felt sick as they parted on the dormitory stairs. "Take care, Harry" she said, a little sadly because if what he had just said was true then he had already lost.

~0~

The train rattled its course along the tracks and Hermione stood as she had for the last hour leaning on the metal edge of the open window, watching the countryside scud by. They had left very early and now Brian Poulson and Sarah Briggs were deep in quiet conversation with Professor Grubbly Plank. Hermione didn't care where Draco was. She was content to enjoy the sensation of the rushing wind. Though it tangled her hair it carried something fresh, a new taste that cleansed her palette and her soul.

__

How ever did it come to this? she asked herself, _Risking friendship for a mean, spoilt little boy?_ She didn't want to think about his snide words and his cruel humour or his nasty pointy nose or the way his hair fell into his eyes or the way he made her feel when he laughed… she didn't want to think about Draco at all.

"Are you going to sulk all the way to London?" he enquired from behind placing his hands over hers and resting his head on her shoulder as he joined her in observation of the blurry mountains. 

"Just what is your problem, Draco?" Hermione asked as his cheek touched against hers, "You don't speak for me for days and then you fly into a rage because I'm helping one of my friends. I just don't understand."

"It's only because I love you," he said curtly, "I don't like seeing you flaunt yourself with others."

"Meaning Harry? Grow up, Malfoy," she felt him coil at her words, tight like an over wound clock.

"We're back to _Malfoy_ are we?" he drawled, not the snap she had expected. Sighing he pulled away and slid down to the carriage floor. Hermione's back felt suddenly cold and she turned from the window following the warmth. He was looking up at her, searching for something. 

"What can I say," he said brushing his hair out of his eyes, "I'm jealous. Oh, it surprises you that I'll admit that? Don't bother to deny it, you're terrible at hiding your thoughts. I've risked a lot for our relationship and I'm waiting for you to equal that. Can I help it if a little of me dies each time you ignore me when you're with your _friends_?"

Hermione knelt on the carriage floor between his knees and took his hands in hers, palms moist and warm against her fingers, "That doesn't give you the right to insult my friends," she said, "or to insult me. If you're annoyed with me, talk to me."

"No," he said emphatically, "I'll solve my own problems. Hermione, I envy your strength and your commitment and your intelligence and I want _everyone_ to know what I think of you; I want to elevate you. And I want everyone to know what you think of me. Give me that."

"Soon," she said wondering when she was ever going to find the right time. 

"Then do something else for me."

"What?"

"I had an Owl from my parents last night. They're in London and they want to meet you."

~0~

The Hogwarts party picked their way through the throng that crammed into the bar room of the Leaky Cauldron, trying not to bang anyone's ankles or drop their overnight bags in anyone's lunch. Rooms had been reserved on the third floor and after Professor Grubbly Plank had seen her charges settled; Hermione sharing with Sarah Briggs and Draco sharing with Brian Poulson, she retreated to the bar for a cheeky half of butter beer.

As Sarah took the opportunity for an afternoon nap, Hermione stood in front of the mirror breathing deeply. Was her hair a mess? Was her blouse too creased? Did it really matter anyway? From what she knew of Draco's parents the only way she could make a good impression was if she arrived in a long box on the shoulders of six pall bearers. 

Was it nerves? Hermione didn't think so. It wasn't really a first meeting at all, though it was the first by choice. She had seen enough of Draco's family to be retain some very vivid impressions. If she was honest his father gave her the creeps, and maybe it was even more than that. Hermione was afraid of him.

The Malfoys had taken a private parlour on the second floor rather than rubbing shoulders with the people downstairs. And Hermione thought cynically, rather than allowing her to set foot in their London home.

"This was more convenient," Draco explained to her as they walked along the windowless hallway, her fingers trailing along the edge of the dark panels just where the aged oak met the thick, tobacco stained paper that lined the wall to the ceiling. Glancing at her fingertips, she wiped them (unseen she hoped) on her robe not wanting to appear as though she had a fifty a day habit. 

"Please stop worrying," he said as they approached the door. Draco pushed it open and held it for Hermione to enter. 

The room was unlike any other she had seen in the Cauldron or indeed, anywhere. Covering the floorboards was a patterned carpet thick enough to hide a herd of migrating wildebeest and the windows were swathed in fabric of a rich dark blue. Unfortunately it seemed that the decorator hadn't quite known where to stop but continued draping layers and cramming in furniture until the effect was more antique shop than opulence.

Amid the "collection" in the wide bay window stood a small round table and at either side of this sat Mr and Mrs Malfoy. 

After a moments pause Mr Malfoy pushed back his chair. He looked different to how Hermione remembered him but last time he'd had a murderous glint in his eye. Now he looked every inch respectable in a dark frock coat, finely embroidered with silver; this fell back to reveal an ivory waistcoat beneath. 

"Hello Father," said Draco with a handshake, "Good journey?"

"Be better if that blasted goblin knew how to drive. Damned menace." coupled with a ruddy complexion and a certain girth the words would have sounded blustering but from Mr Malfoy they were scathing and cold. Hermione found herself feeling glad that she wasn't "that bloody goblin."

"Really? Why not Apparate,"

"Y'know it makes your mother sick. Would've been a damned sight easier."

Despite the formality there was something uncomfortably normal about the way they spoke. Hermione could imagine Percy Weasley at his pompous best bumping into Mr Weasley at work. What had she expected? The Malfoys to cackle round the cauldron or to start throwing hexes at one another the moment they got together? 

So what was her place in this little gathering? Hermione wondered, perplexed as she noticed Mr Malfoy eyeing her like something very unwelcome indeed. Draco for some unfathomable reason thought that this was the perfect time for introductions. 

"You've already met Hermione. Haven't you." he said.

Mr Malfoy grunted, "Yes. Delighted." Sounding anything but. 

"Father, please," Draco censured, "she has a name, do be good enough to use it."

"How pleasant to see you again, Miss Granger," he said making no attempt to shake her hand.

"Hello, Mr Malfoy," she replied politely, glancing at Draco as if to say, _Great idea, so glad you brought me here._ The corner of Draco's mouth twitched into a fleeting half smile and he grasped her by the hand guiding her across the room. Fleetingly, Mrs Malfoy seemed to glow with pleasure at the rare sight of her son, lifting the bored expression that had seemed such a part of her being.

"Mother, this is Miss Hermione Granger," Draco said returning a little of that warmth, "Hermione, my mother."

"Delighted," said Mrs Malfoy flashing a smile that Hermione recognised as Draco's own. She extended a very cold and slender hand that Hermione feared might snap if she shook it too hard. Mrs Malfoy idly flicked her wand at the teapot, "Do sit down dear," she said waving her free hand at the chair opposite. "Aren't you the girl with all the OWLs?" she enquired as Draco drew it back then immediately he withdrew to join his father at the other side of the room. Hermione wished she could hear what they were saying but she had another Malfoy to worry about for the moment. 

Fortunately Mrs Malfoy didn't seem to notice that Hermione hadn't answered her question.

"Dear, dear," said Mrs Malfoy, not unkindly, "Draco has such a lot to contend with. But then your parents have quite a reputation do they not?" she poured tea as she spoke and Hermione was starting to think that she talked only in rhetorical questions, "The Grangers of East Puddlemere I assume. Your mother was very intelligent too as I recall. I wasn't aware that she had a daughter of Draco's age but then one does lose touch after … school."

"Mrs Malfoy," Hermione said, not sure if she should correct Draco's mother or even of how the confusion about her identity had arisen, "My parents are both Muggles."

"Really," the briefest flicker of distaste passed over Mrs Malfoys face but immediately Hermione doubted her own eyes. What she didn't imagine was the most peculiar glance that Mrs Malfoy gave her husband, and though she was very quick to regain her composure she blinked as though she was having trouble comprehending something. "Muggles, extraordinary. How very difficult Hogwarts must have been for you."

"Not at all," Hermione sipped nervously at her tea, "It's been interesting and exciting to learn that I'm part of another world." She felt she was being interrogated by a very subtle, very charming and very calm inquisitor but she wasn't entirely certain what she was supposed to have done.

"I see," Mrs Malfoy peered closely at Hermione's uniform, "Gryffindor," she said, "I was in Slytherin House, as was my husband, but I expect Draco has told you that."

"Yes, he's very proud of it," replied Hermione, she hoped it was the right thing to say as her teacup clicked clumsily back onto her saucer.

"There has long been a healthy rivalry between our houses," Mrs Malfoy said, "I recall it added sparkle to an otherwise mundane existence." Hermione could not say that she agreed with this.

"You will travel with us to the ministry tonight," it was not a question and delivered with such assurance that Hermione had the impression that it had already been arranged. "We will arrive at eight thirty on the Muggle side."

~0~

From a grubby third floor window, Hermione and Draco watched as at eight o'clock a Ministry car pulled up on the Muggle side of the Leaky Cauldron. Professor Grubbly Plank bustled around fitting the Head boy and Girl into the vehicle before entering herself. 

"The Professor was furious," Hermione said as she lost sight of the car as it slipped through the impossibly small gap between two buses, "She's worried that I'm her responsibility and that something might happen to me."

"What's going to happen to you when you're with us?" Draco asked scornful of the notion. "Really, if she objected then she should have told father when he arranged it." Hermione suspected that Grubbly Plank had done just that only to have him overrule or ignore her. But the strangest thing to Hermione was that his father hadn't seemed keen on talking to her that afternoon so it was odd that he was so eager for her to travel with them. 

At eight thirty they tramped down the creaky stairs through the bar and onto the Muggle street. It was Friday and the pavement thronged with revellers, already half inebriated.

"S'it Halloween?" slurred a fat man with wide red braces as he stumbled past, "Hippy weirdoes. Get a job!" he added as overcome with laughter he leaned on his friend for support. "Can you believe the state of them…" he added loudly.

Hermione grasped Draco's wrist, his wand was already fast in his fist and she thought it best that it got no further. "No need to get in trouble over a drunk city boy," she said wisely, eyeing him narrowly until she felt his hand relax, "Just ignore them."

"You think they'd manage to be on time," Draco complained, looking both ways down the long street. "Shall we walk?" he suggested stepping directly into the path of an old woman with a white stick.

"Do you know the way?" Hermione asked annoyed as she tugged him back onto the doorstep. As Draco made no reply she assumed that he did not. But she had to put up with another ten minutes of him pacing irritably and muttering disparaging remarks about the Muggles who passed before the welcome sight of the Bentley slid out from behind the traffic lights and pulled up to the kerb.

"'bout bloody time," Draco said sticking his head in through the drivers window, "Say, what kept you?"

Through the glass Hermione saw the goblin driver jerk his long thumb toward the back of the car and she thought she saw a pained expression flit across Draco's face. "We should've gone with Plank," he muttered as he opened the door and helped her inside. He followed, sliding onto the seat beside her. Hermione noted an unexpected flush on Mrs Malfoys porcelain cheeks, and Mr Malfoy was wearing the same expression she had sometimes seen on Draco. It made her think he would very much like to kick someone.

Nobody spoke in the car so Hermione was free to gaze out of the window as they sped through the crowded streets. It turned into Whitehall, past Westminster Abbey and Saint Margaret's Church, then to her surprise the car turned right off Millbank and drove straight through the low metal railings and pulled to a halt outside the Jewel Tower. This crumbling building had once been a fortress but now it was a tourist attraction and an occasional location for a gaggle of ragged protestors who Hermione had always assumed arrived too late to get the choicer spot opposite the Houses of Parliament. Hermione realised now that the missing half of the building housed the Ministry of Magic and that the protesters were actually a pack of hungry reporters representing every possible wizarding publication from the sensational to the serious.

As the driver opened the door she saw the building properly for the first time though it slipped fuzzily in and out of view before finally her perception accommodated her memory. Mr Malfoy was first out of the car. She saw him glance at the reporters before extending a hand to assist his wife, bulbs flashed and the air was filled with the burn of sulphur and a haze of purple smoke. Hermione followed, blinking in the glare and behind her, Draco.

"Mr Malfoy," came a voice from the pack, "Can you give us your opinion on the Fudge situation?"

Draco squeezed Hermione's hand and muttered, "Don't worry, they'll just be a minute," being the focus of such media attention was unnerving and she held his hand a little longer. It had never really occurred to her that they courted celebrity. Of course the Malfoy name featured in the news more often than most but she hadn't ever considered why. Hermione realised that she didn't actually know what Mr Malfoy did. Draco had never said and apart a rumoured stint as a Death Eater, making the occasional charitable donation and getting sacked from Hogwarts board of governors she knew nothing of his career.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," replied Mr Malfoy smoothly, "Cornelius Fudge is the most competent Minister that we have had in many years. The notion that he would step down now is simply ludicrous."

"But you _do_ chair the committee for Beatific Instruction, Governance and Observance of Transference Statutes. Isn't that body directly responsible for overseeing the process?"

"That's no secret and naturally if Minister Fudges position was in question the committee would know."

"But no Minister without the full backing of that committee has ever lasted long. Is it true that opinion is divided on the future of wizarding government?"

"When is it not, I ask you. When is it not?" Malfoy chuckled and beamed at his wife who joined in as if it were a very funny joke indeed, "The committee is united, one hundred per cent behind the Minister."

"What about this mornings report that Fudge will stand down next month?"

"Gossip and hearsay. Balderdash one might say. Do forgive me, we are terribly late and mustn't keep the minister waiting."

The Malfoys smiles were as dazzling and enduring as the flash from the camera.

"Godawful people," Malfoy complained as they stepped through the doorway, "Why I waste my time so that they can get snapshots to fill their rags with drivel I don't know!"

"Then don't encourage them," suggested Mrs Malfoy sourly, "Really, Lucius if…"

"I? Encourage?" he replied as if the situation were just too astonishing to imagine. "Easiest thing to do is feed them, otherwise they pop up the most unexpected places. Oh, isn't that Appleby? Come, Draco. You must meet Humphrey."

Hermione found herself immediately separated from the Malfoys. She was actually quite relieved. She stepped across the pink marble floor gazing up at the ceiling, which was painted with silver shimmering stars. Although the effect was impressive, Hermione couldn't help thinking that the place was more likely to ooze red tape than ooze magic. Ahead of her was a grand staircase bordered by curling wrought iron banisters. On the landing where the stairway split in two was a large open doorway through in which a trio of elephants could comfortably fit. It was here that the reception appeared to be. Hermione walked slowly up the stairs peering down at the Malfoys who were currently shaking hands and making elaborate _'Mwah, Mwah'_ kisses with some people who Hermione did not know.

She drifted through the throng that crammed into the room, milling under the vast chandeliers that burned with the light of a thousand candles as she looked for someone to talk to. 

Was that Percy Weasley across the room? Before she could take a second look Hermione's view was blocked by a liveried witch carrying a huge tray.

"Champagne?" she asked.

"No thanks," said Hermione who had spotted one Rita Skeeter lurking on the edge of a nearby conversation. The last thing she wanted was to be caught on camera with a drink in her hand. She was not surprised to see the blonde set a course through the crowd bludging herself a path with her swinging handbag.

"Any comment for the Prophet?" Skeeter asked blinking froglike behind a pair of large bejewelled spectacles.

"None, Miss Skeeter," Hermione replied politely, no point in being hostile.

"Given recent events I'm surprised to see you outside Hogwarts. Perhaps Dumbledore doesn't care much for the safety of his students…?"

"I don't think any Death Eaters were invited tonight," Hermione bit her bottom lip wondering how she might deflect further questions.

"No, I'm sure you're right," Skeeter remarked stroking her chin thoughtfully, "But what interesting company you chose to arrive with. That caused quite a stir… the Malfoys are very well known in _certain_ circles. In fact they were instrumental in organising tonight's soiree. Care to venture an opinion on that?"

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Now, now, don't be rude. We were getting along so well," Skeeter grasped Hermione's arm and propelled her to the side of the room, reaching out as they passed the buffet. Skeeter popped a vol au vont into her mouth and chewed, "Let me give you some advice, young lady as you obviously don't know half of what's going on round here. Do you know how a Minister of Magic is appointed?" her painted mouth twisted with glee, "Oh dear me. And I thought you knew everything."

"Look, I thought we settled this some years ago. All I have to do is tell that you're an unreg …"

"Interesting you should bring that up. A little bird told me that I'm not the first unregistered animagus to come out of Hogwarts," that shut Hermione up, "How do you think your _friends_ would react if the word got out that an escaped murderer still at large also answers to the name Snuffles?"

"How do you know that?"

"A good journalist never reveals her sources."

"Then you're free to tell me."

"Very sharp, dear. But now that you no longer have anything to blackmail me with I think we should talk, don't you?"

"Actually, I think you should leave me alone."

Skeeter sighed giving in much sooner than Hermione had thought possible, "As you wish, Miss Granger," she popped open her handbag and extracted a gold rimmed card. "When you decide that you _do_ want to talk about your most interesting dilemma, about the Malfoys or perhaps even about your dear friends that fight the good fight, you can contact me here," she tapped the card with a garish talon before pressing it into Hermione's palm. "By the way, I think someone is looking for you." Hermione followed the finger across to Professor Grubbly Plank, who looked about ready to explode, "Must dash!" said Skeeter before attaching herself to another unsuspecting group.

"I'm sorry, Professor" Hermione said as she tucked Skeeters card into her pocket, "the Malfoy's were late"

"I was worried sick. They should know better than leaving you alone, especially after … I should never have let them bring you here. What would the headmaster think of me leaving you with that man he…" but Hermione never found out the teachers opinion on "that man" she snapped her mouth closed. 

After another five minutes of this Hermione found her way out onto the staircase. She climbed high enough for the darkness to hide her. From here she could peer down through the banister and see the glow from the room below, from which an occasional peal of laughter would ring or a snippet of disembodied conversation float her way…

__

"Extraordinary! Do you think perhaps she's a throwback?" a woman speculated, her voice somehow familiar.

__

"Mans an oaf of course. Call that a school…."Gruff and rheumy.

__

"Such a tragedy about the Holmes'. Dreadful accident…" sounding very pleased about the event. Before Hermione could speculate as to what fate the Holmes' had encountered a shadow filled the doorway below.

"There you are," said Draco climbing the stair and sitting beside her, "I had to talk with the Woolley's, father insisted. I hope you haven't been too bored."

"I bumped into an old friend," Hermione said. "Draco, did you know that your father funded this party?"

"Had no idea," he replied, "Though that explains why they're here." 

__

But not why they didn't just send you an invitation! Hermione thought, wondering just how well known that piece of information was and why they would want to keep such a thing a secret. Was Skeeters implication more than that, was there something more?

"Who's that?" Draco pointed down at a couple who had just entered the building. The man, who appeared to have so many teeth that his mouth was forced into a wide grin, was wearing a sober Muggle suit and the woman who accompanied him had a similar problem except instead of a grin her mouth was twisted into an awkward grimace. They were followed by three rather large men, all of whom were busy tapping the radios in their ears.

Hermione's eyes widened. "What's he doing here?"

"Strange behaviour," Draco remarked in astonishment.

"Magical interference," Hermione explained, "its messing up their transmitters, "Security guards."

"Who needs security?"

"That's the Muggle Prime Minister," she said.

"Really? How dull. Ministry is still a government department I suppose, though only the very top level know about it of course."

Hermione didn't confess her ignorance on the subject of the interaction of Magical and Muggle government but she made a mental note to do a bit of reading when she got back to school. She thought perhaps the evening was never going to end but eventually hands were shaken, awards awarded and the Hogwarts party could leave at last; together this time. 

As they climbed into the Ministry car Hermione noticed Mr and Mrs Malfoy poised on the steps of the Ministry, he talking loudly at the reporters and she with an attentive expression fixed upon her face. 

As the famous bell in St Stephens tower struck twelve the car door closed and Hermione slumped back inhaling the fresh leathery smell of the car interior so welcome after the miasma of smoke and perfume that had pervaded the ministry rooms. She was glad that the evening was over and that at last things could get back to normal.

~0~

The wireless crackled in the Gryffindor Common Room…the half past midnight news bulletin. "And this is what Mister Lucius Malfoy had to say on the subject earlier tonight as he left the Ministry of Magic," said the witch announcer before her voice was replaced by the careful tones of Malfoy

"…indeed I would never have the temerity to place my self so high above my magical brethren or above our …" he said before Ron slammed his hand on the off switch.

"Sly git!" he remarked with a grin, "Poor Hermione, not only has she got Malfoy to put up she's got his father too."

"I hope she's okay," said Harry.

"She'll be fine. I can't imagine she'd had anything to do with _them_. Your move Harry."

As Harry studied the board Ron continued to talk, "What are you doing this summer?" he asked, "I thought I'd write and ask if you can stay the whole time and Hermione too. Could be fun. Unless you want to stay with the Dursleys all summer?" he added, underwhelmed by Harry's response.

"Sorry, I was concentrating. I'd love to come."

Ron quickly took his move relieving Harry of another pawn but this tactical error allowed something to happen that Ron just couldn't understand. Harry's white knight moved, smashing his Queen in two.

~0~

Not too early the next morning Hermione trotted down the stairs and into the dim bar room of the Leaky cauldron. There were corners of the room that the sun never reached and though the air was a little stale a door had been propped open to admit a pleasant breeze. As she took a chair she was a little surprised to see the way that Brian and Sarah stared at her. Hermione wondered if perhaps she had been the victim of a practical joke.

"What?" she smiled, though they'd come home late she had slept well and now she had nothing but the last days of term to look forward to; the conclusion of the house championship and lazy days in the sun. _Weird_, she thought as they glanced at one another, determined not to let it spoil her mood Hermione pulled the toast rack toward her, reaching for the butter with her other hand. 

"Can borrow your paper, Sarah?" she asked spreading a thin layer of butter on a triangle of toast.

"Go ahead," said Sarah. Hermione spread out the paper and was about to take a bite of her toast when she saw the picture:

Lucius Malfoy smiled, beside him was his wife and very clearly just behind them she and Draco their hands fleetingly joined. Hermione had a very bad feeling about this. She read the headline:

EXCLUSIVE: Malfoy: Mute on Minister – Mad on Muggles

In an extraordinary evening, writes our Correspondent for Ministry Matters; Rita Skeeter the question of Magic and Muggle relations has been turned on its head. 

Wishing to dispell the growing fear factor after a recent spate of Death Eater style assaults, Mister Lucius Malfoy hinted that his own family have opened their arms and their hearts to Muggle Borns. Such attacks he denounced as cowardly and copycat and the rumours circulating about the return of You-Know-Who he suggested were spread by wizards too old and too afraid to accept that the world had moved on. "Such people like to grumble about Dark Wizards and the bad old days as it is the only way left to enhance their own faltering reputations. Furthermore their willingness to exploit wizarding youth is deeply cynical," he continued.

Discussion turned quickly from speculation over the future of incumbent Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge to the identity of the mysterious beauty accompanying Draco Malfoy (16), heir to the Malfoy family fortune. 

This paper can reveal that it is none other than Hermione Granger, Hogwarts most stunning and most brilliant student and close friend and confident of Harry Potter. "She would melt the heart of any boy," commented a fellow student in a wistful breath.

Is this is key to succesful promotion of Muggle and Wizarding relations? Today's exclusive Daily Prophet survey shows that eight out of ten wizards believe that Mr Malfoy can succeed where the ill-fated Muggle Protection Act (popularly dubbed the 'Weasel Bill') failed (see page 3).

__

Oh no, she thought dropping her toast straight on to the table. It landed butter side down but Hermione didn't notice that; she was already half way up the stairs.

"Draco!" she raged more piercing than any alarm clock, Muggle or Magical. She hammered on the door with both fists, "Draco!"

After a minute the door opened on creaking hinges. He stood in the gap, blinking, his hair dishevelled and somewhat plastered down his right cheek and with a sheet clutched defensively in one hand, round about waist height. He raised the other to cover a yawn as he said, "Morning."

"What the hell is this?" Hermione shrieked, storming into the room. After regaining his balance, Draco pushed the door closed and blinked at Hermione.

"What is what?" he asked drowsily.

"This!" she thrust the paper hard against his bare chest and he just managed to catch it just in time to stop the crumpled pages from scattering across the floor.

"The Daily Prophet, I think," he replied, bewildered.

"I know what it is," she snatched the paper back using her finger to point, "The article. _That_ article, Draco. Read it you complete and absolute _shit_!"

"Funny," he said as once again the paper was flung at him and he wondered if it would be in shreds before he got a chance to explain whatever it was he was supposed to have done. "I was just dreaming you'd come in and wake me up but I imagined something slightly different."

"Just shut up," she advised and with a staggering feat of sleepy deduction Draco worked out that all was not right with Hermione this morning, "How could you do this, how could you not tell me!"

"Hermione, I don't know what you are talking about."

"Liar!" Hermione flew at him

"Will you at least tell me what I've done if you're going to try and kill me," he said as her fist caught his temple. Ducking he grabbed her round the waist and threw her with some difficulty on to the bed before stooping to snatch up the fallen paper.

"Oh," he said chucking the paper on to the bed next to his attacker; he turned away before glancing over his shoulder at Hermione who looked quite ready to have another swipe at him. He seemed to realise that his sheet had got lost in the struggle and he retrieved this too tying it round his waist. "I don't suppose you'll believe me if I said I didn't know."

"How could you not know?"

"By not knowing. Of course I should have guessed he might do something like this."

"It's not a matter of guessing!" she accused, "You told me you could wait, Draco but now _everyone_ knows."

"I had nothing to do with it. I wasn't even there. Now, if I come over there are you going to attack me again? I'd like to know."

She didn't reply but stared down at the rumpled bedspread, "It's so awful,"

"Why is it so awful?" his bare feet made no sound on the wooden floorboards and she did not look up as he sat beside her though she had to be aware of his weight as it bent the edge of the mattress. He reached out and raised her chin; "You were going to tell people anyway, weren't you?"

"Yes, but at the right time," she said plaintively, anger threatening to dissolve into tears.

"Sometimes there just isn't a right time," he said smoothing his palm along her cheek catching the first tear with his fingertip, "and now I think it's an academic question, don't you?"

"You knew nothing." Hermione sniffed.

"I knew nothing," he said again, "Trust me."

"But my friends. Ron, Harry they…"

He placed his thumb gently on her lips and then replaced it with his own. "Be sensible, Hermione," he whispered breaking the kiss "if they're really your friends, how bad can it be?"

~0~

In **_Part Sixteen: Fait Accompli _**… Hermione discovers just how fickle friendship can be but coming out of the none gay closet does have its advantages.

****

Authors Notes:

Thank you for your reviews those of you who are still with me. I seem to have lost most of my readership (the reviewing part at least) during my break. I suppose that is my own fault for posting such frequent chapters back in the beginning.

Anyway, thanks again for your support and I hope you stick with me when_ Transi de Froid_ is complete and we follow Hermione deep into the heart of the Malfoy household and the Ministry. Watch out for **_'Le Deluge'_**, a sequel in progress.

Random notes on Part 15…

The names at the Ministry, 'Humphrey Appleby' and 'The Woolleys' are directly from the superb 'Yes, Minister' series, I just couldn't resist it! 

It took me a long time deciding on the name for Lucius Malfoy's committee, the title might not make much sense but the acronym is appropriate.

That was a cameo appearance from the Blairs both of whom I despise.

Part Sixteen of TdF should be ready in about four weeks.

Take care

~Incitata~

For updates on this fic please join:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Transi_de_Froid/


	16. Fait Accompli

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.

~0~

****

Part Sixteen: Fait Accompli 

~0~

"Is it a kind of a dream   
Floating out on the tide   
Following the river of death downstream   
Oh is it a dream?"

__

Stephen Gately Bright Eyes

(Yes, that's the one about the rabbits!)

~0~

"What are we going to do?" asked Hermione, sliding shut the compartment door relieved to escape the looks of suspicion that she was attracting from the rest of the party. 

"Deal with it," advised Draco pragmatically, stretching his legs along the seat opposite, "This is what we knew would happen all along. Okay, we didn't exactly plan it like this but lets make the best of the situation. Even if your friends aren't open minded enough, mine are."

Hermione doubted that but she kept quiet, imagining Ron's face becoming redder and redder until he blended perfectly against the Gryffindor colours, discernible only because of the steam that billowed out of his ears. And what of Harry? He always brooded when he was angry; she knew that from experience. He brooded until he was simmering so strongly that his lid blew off! But wasn't there a chance they would understand? Not likely, she admitted closing her eyes and leaning her head back. 

"Shall I leave you alone?" Draco asked.

"Stay," she replied, not really wanting to be by herself, she had a lot of that to look forward to. Draco continued to lounge, unperturbed by their situation. It irked that he could be so untouched by the cool response of the others or was he just used to being viewed less than favourably by people like the _holier-than-thou's_ in the next compartment. Hermione chewed her bottom lip and leaned forward resting her chin on her hands. "Can I ask you something?" she said, as if afraid of being overheard.

"Anything."

"Did you know?"

His arm dropped heavily from his lap and hung down, swinging like a pendulum in time with the train, "I've already told you that I did not," he said with a weary sigh.

"Then why did he do it?"

"I don't know. I suppose he thought it was right." Draco suggested irritably, "When father gets an idea, well its easier not to question him as to his motives." He turned his head and looked darkly at her, "I don't make the rules Hermione, I live with them."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning nothing."

Unsatisfied with that explanation, Hermione turned away and pressed her forehead against the cool window pane. She gazed at the sky, low cloud obscuring the mountain peaks in a layered haze of blurry black and greys, sunlight filtered through, brightening the hillside but casting a jaundiced tinge on the heavens from which distant rain fell. Only a few spots of water spattered across the window but minutes later it began to lash the side of the train. Draco stretched up to close the window.

He flopped back into his seat wiped a few drops of water from his nose, "You still don't quite trust me, do you?" he accused with all the tact and subtlety of a housebrick, "or is it the rest of my family?"

"Can you really blame me?"

"You only know what you've heard from people who aren't really all that qualified to comment. How often have you heard it said that all evil people get sorted in to Slytherin? If you'd listened to them then we would never have stood a chance in the first place. If you can be wrong about me why cant you be wrong about my family?… Hermione?"

She blinked, surprised that he was no longer talking. She'd settled back in the seat, arms folded and resigned to listen to one of Draco's infuriatingly long and patronising lectures, wary of the row that would follow if she interrupted.

"I don't know, Draco," she said hesitantly.

"Oh, don't be so silly. You don't have to like them. You'll never even see them."

But no matter what he said, she couldn't imagine Draco wasting too much time on someone of whom they didn't approve. He might claim that his father was "an arrogant bastard" and his mother "as dull as dust" but they wore those roles like a favourite pair of shoes, always with them. And like old shoes they had worn so thin that they had begun to leak and through those holes, Hermione detected an exceptional bond, as if they needed one another yet hated each other for knowing it.

It was tempting to ask him more about them but she didn't really think she'd get him to talk. Truth was she didn't think she wanted to know.

~0~

It was eight o'clock before the train pulled into a very dark and damp Hogsmeade Station, wet in a way that only a British summer can be.

A carriage was waiting at the gate for them and they piled on board and began the short journey up to the school. Draco squeezed Hermione's knee, just as they trundled past the boars. "Don't worry," he said.

As they rolled up to the main door, Professor Grubbly-Plank coughed loudly, "I think it would be best if you all went straight for dinner, I will arrange for your luggage to be taken in. Run along now, not much time left," this proposal met the approval of most of the occupants of the carriage but Hermione was less than enthusiastic. 

As she approached the doors of the Great Hall, open a crack through which the buzz of voices escaped, Hermione felt more nervous than she had when she first made this walk. 

This time she knew what awaited her.

There weren't many diners left at this hour. The staff table was empty and those students that were there appeared to have been waiting for their friends to return from London. Draco melted in into the Slytherin table, Brian Poulson joined Hufflepuff and the Ravenclaws welcomed Sarah Briggs. Hermione shuddered as she saw who remained at Gryffindor table. She had a choice, she could either sit alone at the end near the door through which she could quickly bolt if things got tetchy or she could make the walk of shame and face the jury at the far end. There was a seat just between Neville and the Creeveys, perhaps there? Just beyond them sat Harry, and Ron and Ginny. 

Hermione dithered, relieved that no-one seemed to have noticed her but it couldn't last. Ginny was the first, she nudged Ron who nudged Harry and slowly twelve heads faced her way. Taking a deep breath, Hermione approached. Neville shifted uncomfortably then slid into the seat next to Dennis, still keeping a leg on his own.

Hermione swallowed. 

"Here, Hermione," said Lavender still further down the table indicating an empty chair next to Parvati. It was very close to Harry but what other choice was there (apart from turning and running). But she couldn't run away any more. This had to be faced and putting it off for so long had only deepened the wound it caused but the chances of a fair trial were slim. 

Each step seemed to take hours, was it always like this for the condemned? She wondered as her eyes flicked left to see Neville staring guiltily down at his plate. 

"Traitor!" coughed Ginny as Hermione passed. Tempting though it would have been to push her face right into the half empty dish of sprouts that sat in front of her, Hermione ignored the comment, focussing on the vacant chair. Or was that a hoax? Would Lavender snatch it away and hound her from the hall?

"Thanks," said Hermione sitting at the far side of Lavender, hardly daring to look at the others.

"You're welcome," she replied so naturally that Hermione wondered if she had imagined that walk.

"I'm not hungry," said Ron loudly pushing back his chair with a crash, "Something's making me feel sick. Harry?"

"You certainly kept that one a secret, Hermione," remarked Harry, a touch bitterly, "All this time I thought you were one of us. How could you ever let that evil piece of filth touch you."

His eyes blazed, flashing between hurt and rage and maybe something even deeper than that. It confirmed what Hermione had known all along; that nothing she could say would change anything.

"Harry?" repeated Ron who hadn't even looked directly at her. "If she wants to play slutty games with Malfoy, let her. Like anyone else would want either of them."

Hermione stared wide eyed at Ron, he was almost purple and his eyes goggled strangely as if playing a role in someone's nightmare. She couldn't quite believe what he had said but how could she say anything, how could she blame them.

"Come on, Hermione," said Harry obviously not as ready as Ron to leave, "Tell us the details, when did this all happen? Are you drugged, or brainwashed or have you just lost your mind?" he asked loudly, not that it needed to be loud because everyone at the table was already listening. "What have they promised you? I always thought you were my friend, Hermione. Even through everything that has gone on this year, all the secrecy, all the sneaking around. I justified it. I told myself that it was all my imagination. I never believed it."

"Harry," Hermione squeaked instinctively reaching out.

"Don't touch me," he spat, flinching as if she were on fire. 

"Listen to me…" she was on her feet not sure what she was going to say, trying to find something that would make a difference. "Harry," she grasped his arm again and this time he shook it, hard, knocking her back into her seat. 

Lavender gasped.

"Harry," said Ron sharply as though his friend had lost his senses, "What the heck do you…"

The rest of his words were lost as Lavender started talking rapidly in her ear but Hermione didn't hear what she was saying. There was pressure on her shoulder and she tilted her head instantly recognising the long, fine fingers that reassuringly squeezed. His eyes gazed upon her, sparking like molten granite then slowly he raised his head. 

"Potter," he said in a tone as brittle and cold as ice, "I am going to make you pay for that."

"It's nothing to do with you, Malfoy?" snapped Harry livid.

"This has everything to do with me, Potter. Nobody damages _anything_ that belongs to me especially not a scar-faced runt who is no more worthy of _her_ friendship than Weasel is of the epithet wizard."

"_Belongs_ to you?" Ron scoffed beside Harry now. "What a classic, how much'd you pay for her?"

"Ron!" Hermione shrieked scrambling to her feet, "How can you say…"

"I haven't even started yet," he replied nastily without removing his eyes from Draco, "Come on then, Malfoy. Make us pay!" his knuckles were white and his hands balled into fists.

"I will, Weasley. If you can afford it!" Goyle had joined Draco and Crabbe stood nearby under the shadow of Millicent Bulstrode though the Gryffindors were not without reinforcement. And members of the other houses were also showing their interest in the scene developing in the aisle between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables.

"Please," Hermione was in a place that she never ever thought she'd find herself, wand in hand, shoulder to shoulder with Draco Malfoy, sizing up Ron and Harry. She really was on trial and it wasn't just the Gryffindors who were monitoring her actions, the Slytherins were also taking great interest, no doubt wondering whether or not she really had the guts for this. "Draco, just let it drop," she whispered.

"No," he said firmly without taking his eyes from his opponents, "They can't talk to you like that."

"Reserve that privilege for yourself do you?" sniped Harry.

"Just one more word," Draco warned, "From either of you."

"Shut your face, Malfoy."

"_Flagrare,_" yelled Harry white fire erupting from his wand.

__

"Annullare," roared Draco in the same instant.

"_Odisse,_" Ron added his ire to the conflagration. 

__

"Aegret..." Hermione began butthe first curses clashed in mid air then deflected by Ron's they came directly at her. She threw herself to the floor narrowly avoiding the jet of fire that whooshed above. Finding no target, it erupted overhead with a deafening _craaaack_ raw with power spraying the students with searing sparks. 

Even the mossiest of Hogwarts professors, high in the most distant tower could not fail to have heard that!

On her knees beneath the table, Hermione saw a sudden rush of ankles head toward the door. She reached for her fallen wand then cautiously peered out. Three faces were contorted with absolute hatred, clearly getting ready for another assault then rage was replaced by confusion as Harry, Ron and Draco looked down at their empty hands. Hermione scrambled to her feet, her own wand clutched in her fist. She felt all her blood drain and come to a rest roughly parallel with the soles of her feet. 

Professor McGonagall was standing at the end of the table with three wands in one hand, the air around it alive with vivid blue crackles.

"Malfoy, Potter, Weasley…" her eyes settled on Hermione who was clutching the edge of the table for support, "…Miss Granger. Come with me," she said softly. 

Hermione tucked her wand out of sight as in silence they followed the Professor toward the staff table and through the door at the back of the hall. By the time the door clicked shut the hall was filled with murmurs. 

As McGonagall examined the boys' wands Hermione looked sidelong at Draco, jaw set, his face was stony and pale and his hand left hand appeared to be trying to strangle the right. Her eyes flicked to the others both of who looked distinctly abashed and seemed to be taking great interest in the empty fireplace.

McGonagall turned, "Would one of you care to give me an explanation as to why two prefects and the captain and the keeper of a Quidditch team are to be found shrieking and hurling curses, particularly _nasty_ curses at one another in the Great Hall? Miss Granger?" Hermione looked down at her own shuffling feet.

Sucking all the air from the room McGonagall continued, "A _Quel_! I cannot remember when Hogwarts last saw such a thing … and in the Great Hall. It's a disgrace! How you come to even _know_ those words is beyond me but to _use_ them…do you think perhaps this is a good example to set your fellow students?" she ventured humourlessly, "Very well then. I remind you _all_ that your positions are a privilege, not a right. Mr Malfoy, your head of House and your parents will be informed of this incident and as for you three, I will write to your parents and you will _all_ be informed of your punishment in due course."

~0~

McGonagall had clearly raked the depths of her mind to find a punishment that would make them think about what they had done, this close to the end of term there wasn't much that she could do to spoil it for them but she managed. The four perpetrators found themselves confined to school grounds, which was disappointing because after the exams were over, the sixth and seventh years traditionally enjoyed free access to Hogsmeade. Hermione and Draco however were not too troubled by the news, those left in the castle weren't all that interested in the pair who had been the cause of such excitement recently. They were free to lounge on the stairs of the castle basking in the sunlight relieved to be free of questioning eyes for the afternoon. 

"_Annullare_?" Hermione said quietly, "That's vicious."

"Well, your erstwhile admirers weren't exactly reading from the _'Standard Book of Spells: Grade One'_, were they?"

"I'm shocked at all of you, those were bordering on the dark, every single one."

"I don't really care about that," he smirked flicking dust from his sleeve, "But I'm sure those two will when they've had a chance to reflect upon it. What I'm interested in, Hermione is what was on the end of your tongue?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your wand was out, your mouth was open," he leaned close, tracing the line of her jaw with his thumb, "If that old hag hadn't come along, what honeyed words would have spilled from these sweet lips?"

"I don't like to say," said Hermione playfully biting Draco's thumb.  
"Do you really think it'll bother me?"

"No, that's why I don't want to tell you."

"No secrets, now"

"_Aegretudo_," she whispered.

Draco's eyebrow raised, "_Aegretudo_? Hermione, what a dark heart you have and against your friends too."

"I was just so angry with them being so horrible. I think I would have really got into trouble."

"Do you understand the concept of understatement? That one's landed people in St Mungo´s."

"I've only read about it, I've never tried it so it probably wouldn't have worked."

"I wouldn't be so sure, put the right amount of rage behind it and…"

"Draco!" he rolled his eyes and leaned on his elbows.

"What a way to end the year. Confined to school grounds and I lost fifty points."

"Did you? Maybe I got off lightly because I didn't actually use my wand."  
"Well, diving under the table is a tried and tested method of defence," Draco sniggered, "But if you had… _Aegretudo _think of it, that pair stricken by slow hungry insanity!"

"Draco, I don't feel good about it."

"Feel as guilty as you like. But while you do, how about a walk."

"Where to?" she snapped, "Perhaps the village?"

"I don't think that would go down too well. Anyway, too much rabble. Come on." He took her hand and pulled her to her feet then hand in hand trotted down toward the lake.

The air was too still to walk far and by the time they came to a halt where the bole of a half fallen tree raised the bank, Hermione's shirt was sticking to her skin. The trunk of the tree bowed over the water and along it grew a tangle of ivy which trailed down to the glassy lake. 

"It's perfect!" she said, dragging Draco toward it. She stopped and began to pull off her shoes, "Are you joining me?"

"Paddling?"

"No, stupid! That branch makes it just like a bench. I can't believe it exists."  
Draco sighed but followed Hermione's lead leaving his shoes and socks on the ground.

Together they edged along the bough. And as Hermione had seen the branch behind provided support just like a park bench at just the right height for their toes to dangle in the water. 

"It's wonderful," said Hermione as a flotilla of ducks quacked below, "It's like it was made for us." 

"Did you really say that?" Draco asked scornfully, "should I start quoting poetry for you perhaps?"

"Draco!" 

He then draped one arm around her shoulders and swept the other out in a dramatic arc, "Shall I compare thee to a plague of frogs, thou be more lovely than the Cauterised Crone of…ouch!"

Hermione thumped his arm again for good measure, "How romantic," she remarked.

"Was that a question?"

"No, it's just… are you so jaded that you…" Draco leaned to her and placed a hand over her mouth, grasping her jaw when she tried to interrupt. Without releasing her he edged back a little extracting a penknife from his pocket. Her eyes flicked and followed the blade to a knot in the branch behind and as it dug deep she saw some lichen covered letters which suggested that they were not the first to find this place. 

DM '98 HG

He carved, in intertwining letters that almost completely obliterated 

A+M 1964.

"I wonder who they were…" muttered Hermione tracing her fingers over the carving.

"Nobody," he said stifling an exaggerated yawn, "it's our place now."

"You soppy twit!"

"Don't be offensive, Hermione. That's fighting talk where I come from!"

"I _will_ ask you to read me poetry if you don't stop pretending to be so untouchable. I know you, Malfoy."

"I love it when you get all formal," he chuckled mischievously then he grasped her hands and fixed her with a look that Hermione could describe only as dangerous, 

"What?" she asked as his grin broadened and her description mutated to pure wickedness, "I'll make you serenade me if you don't tell me."

"Is that a threat?" he raised her hands to his lips then without waiting for an answer he toppled backwards, his weight pulling Hermione with him.

"You evil swine!" she shrieked as her feet found the lake bed. Draco stood nearby, waist deep in water with his hair slick and his shirt plastered to his skin. Hermione waded toward him wishing that for once he could look like a drowned rat but that was too much to ask. Draco lived a charmed life, and part of that charm was that he looked stunning and would always look stunning, even if he was covered from head to toe in mud.

"I was a bit hot," he shrugged as she reached him and folded her in his arms, before bursting out laughing. Despite her annoyance, Hermione laughed too she couldn't help it, with the absurdity of it all there was nothing else to do.

~0~

It was with reluctance that Hermione parted from Draco to join her housemates for the end of term feast. Those last days had been a whirl of new faces, voices and opinions and in the confusion she had almost forgotten the hostility of her old friends. Almost.

"With us, 'Mione," said Parvati grabbing Hermione's arm and steering her into a chair between Lavender and Seamus Finnegan. Hermione was just grateful enough to forget to correct Parvati about how her name was pronounced. 

Harry and his hangers on sat a little further down the table sending poisonous glances her way and Hermione was concerned to realise that she had been part of that group that scowled at anyone who didn't quite measure up. There was a bigger world out there and she had found it.

"So what is your secret?" asked Parvati, "Viktor, Justin, Draco?"

"Indifference," said Hermione with a wry smile, "I think perhaps it's irresistible!"

Gryffindor did badly in the house championship, the loss of a hundred points took them below Hufflepuff and a quirk of fate at the final Quidditch match allowed Slytherin to regain the points Draco had lost them in the duel but the Quidditch cup went to Ravenclaw. But nothing could revive Gryffindor and when the final point tally was announced a great roar erupted from the Slytherin table. Ignoring the disappointment around her Hermione smiled peering through the sea of hats to catch a glimpse of Draco who appeared to be holding court. 

This was something they couldn't share. He was back in his world, she in hers and it would be morning before she saw him again as they boarded the old train that would take them home. But now there was a point where two worlds met and what they shared there was something more than perfect.

~0~

This year nothing was going to ruin the mood or change the Slytherin colours, Draco knew it. _A feast, is a feast, is a feast_, he thought but this one was slightly different. The old fool was waffling about something that Draco didn't care to listen to, he was obviously trying desperately to be so "fair" and find a reason to bump up the Gryffindors points but it seemed that this time his imagination had run dry. 

That was it.

"Look at their faces," laughed Draco leaning on Pansy's shoulder as he reached over to slap Blaise's palm, "You could break rocks with them." 

"HAAAA!" yelled Vincent and Millicent throwing themselves at one another in a most unseemly manner.

Similar scenes were repeated along the table as the Slytherins made enough noise to shake the foundations not only of Hogwarts but of the whole wizarding world. It was a signal. They were back.

Grinning broadly Draco snatched up his goblet, "To victory!" he roared to the cheers of his friends. 

He saw her then, gazing at him from her prison across the hall, a rapt and wonderfully indulgent expression on her face. She was his true victory this year and as she turned away he smiled and muttered, "Sometimes Slytherins do win!"

__

~Fin~

****

Authors Notes:

In the immortal words of Bugs Bunny, _That's all folks! _

I have really enjoyed writing TdF from writing it, to reading your reviews, to drawing out a floorplan of the Malfoy's house, every little bit but it can't go on forever. We have reached a natural break. The end of the sixth year.

In the sequel **_Le Deluge…we follow Hermione deep into the heart of the Malfoy household and the Ministry. More mystery, more romance, more temptation… Read it and creep._**

For news on **Le Deluge** please join:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Transi_de_Froid/

****

Long Rambling Section of Authors Notes:

I cannot believe I have finished. I first started TdF in July 2001 under a different title but decided not to publish. Some time in October I re-read it and realised that I had the basis of a story, again under a different title but that was only planned to be two parts. That is when I first published this under the rather strange name "Can a Dragon Change its spots?" 

It was then I realised that the story I had could not be told in two parts. I chose the title _Transi de Froid_ because it reflected well the stagnation and impossibility if the relationship with existing friendships intact, breaking those was the only way to break the deadlock and for Draco and Hermione to move on. 

I am re-writing the whole fic to expand the earliest chapters which read awkwardly in parts and I suspect have put a lot of people off wanting to read more. There are scenes (such as the Christmas Dance) which I never even knew had become a fic cliché but for this I have another scenario which will add to TdF and the sequel. There is also the question of my wooden Ron and Harry who I wheel out whenever I feel I should, what they have been doing is important in the sequel, so I need to add a few more hints and a lot more depth. 

Sincerest apologies for my unplanned absence, but sometimes even picking up a pen is difficult. 

Thank you all for your support!

****

Final, Blissfully Short Section of Authors Notes:

And here, courtesy of the BBC, you can find a fabulous picture of Lucius Malfoy looking superbly snooty and worryingly like my mental picture of him! http://www.bbc.co.uk/films/harrypotter/gallery_landscape_11.shtml (you might have to go back into the bar and delete an extra http://%20 before it loads!).

Have sympathy for me, I'll not see CoS until Sunday next week when I'm in Blighty!

Love always

__

~Incitata~


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